Flesh and Blood
by theendsofmay
Summary: Amara de Medici has finally settled into the arms of Cardinal Cesare Borgia and is determined to set him free from his Cardinal robes. They say that innocence is bliss but Amara's innocence seems to bring danger. As Savonarola attacks her homeland and tensions between Cesare and his brother grow, there are threats from within and without the papacy. A sequel to The Unholy Family
1. The Borgia Bull

**1496**

 **January**

Amara de Medici's own bed – or more rightly his own –had grown cold in Cesare's absence. The feeling had been so unbearable to poor Amara that she found refuge in the arms of another, her lover's own sister. While he searched for Della Rovere they reverted back to their childish bedtime ritual and although there was the addition of a child in the chamber the two girls found life to be beautiful – _bliss_.

At least it was until the child began to cry.

"Is he hungry?" Amara propped herself up on one arm to watch the Madonna and child.

"Yes." It was strange to Amara that Lucrezia fed the child herself. She was used to upper class women employing wet nurses instead of feeding the child herself.

Amara rolled lazily off the sheets and moved towards the already filled bath. Both she and Lucrezia were in the habit of taking a bath the moment they awoke and made sure that their maidservants were prepared for this task. She let her nightgown slip away from her body to the floor. Amara placed one foot into the bath to test the waters. She almost melted as her body sunk into the lavender smelling liquid.

It was when Amara had closed her eyes and draped her hair over the side of the copper tub her haze was interrupted.

"You must evade yourself of a wet nurse, my love." Amara's eyes widened at the sound of the Pope's voice.

"Indeed Father, why?" Lucrezia sounded perplexed as she studied her father's face though Amara was certain she knew why.

"You're hardly a commoner." When he continued speaking Amara felt a small sense of relief in the fact that the Pope had not seen her. "And your vigour should reflect that grace."

"Ah…" Lucrezia let out a knowledgeable sound. "Because I am yet of marriageable age am I not?"

"Nothing could have be further from our thoughts, Lucrezia." Amara almost wished to laugh. Fathers were always looking to marry their daughters and the Pope had an extra need with so many enemies.

"This child Holy Father, lacks a father." The case of Lucrezia's child had been a puzzle to Amara. Although she had told Amara about the father, how he was a beautiful stable hand who could not read or write Lucrezia had kept the rest to herself.

He Pope almost choked as he struggled to find the correct words. "Well one appropriate station."

"And at the moment you have no need of a marriageable alliance but if the need arose you would marry me to the moon."

"What? Does the sun threaten our papacy now?" The Pope reached up to kiss his daughters forehead to show the softness in his questioning.

"No, Father." Lucrezia saw the humour in such a topic. "Mars in in a unique aliment with Saturn, the heaven beams down upon us…for the moment." Still, she was so adamant in her views to further stress her cause. "But the day may come."

There was a silence between the pair but when the babe began to cry the Pope spoke once more. "Let me hold him. Now come along, that's right." He turned from his young grandchild to Lucrezia once more. "So, a wet nurse We insist."

The Pope began to walk from the room and as a result saw the lady Amara sitting in her unclothed state inside the sweet smelling waters. He was quick to address his daughter's young friend. "Donna Amara."

Amara breathed under a scarlet face. "Your Holiness."

The Pope continued to stare at Amara with a puzzling look. It was becoming clearer to him, with Amara's softly burning cheeks in his mind the fascination that he had heard his son, Cesare had grown towards the Medici girl. His eyes never changed until the Cardinal Sforza addressed him. "The French Ambassador awaits, Your Holiness."

The Pope looked startled for a moment before he muttered under his breath. "Oh God, isn't he dead yet?"

"He's not even sick." The Cardinal replied waiting for the Pope just outside of Lucrezia's room.

"Come let us see the French Ambassador. What could he have to say?"

The two girls burst out into the laughter the moment he had left the room. Amara, forgetting about her hair and only thinking to hide her burning face sunk down into the waters in the hope that they would swallow her.

* * *

"Maria?" Amara ran her hands over her hair and started to remove the pins that held it in place as she called out for one of her maids. "Maria?"

"I'm afraid I send her away." She stopped in her tracks but continued walking once she recovered from the sight of Cesare Borgia lying on the bed, his arms behind his head.

"You should know Cardinal Borgia that it is not proper to be found in a Ladies room." She waited until she had finished her sentence before she let herself smile.

"Oh! I was quite unaware." He mocked his shock pulling himself up from the bed he continued, "Allow me to make amends." Before Amara knew what was happening his lips were upon hers. It seemed that their single month apart had been too long for the Cardinal. Nevertheless, Cesare knew of the news he had gathered from travelling Amara did not.

"How was your trip?" She asked breathlessly when she pulled away. "Did you find him?"

"It was fruitful." Cesare launched himself towards her again.

"So you did." She placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Does that mean you don't have to go away again?"

"Perhaps, why?" He cocked his head to the side and continued arrogantly. "Do you dislike it when I go away?"

"Who told you that?" Amara chuckled at the statement moving slowly over to her bedside table. She began to slowly remove her rings and drop them swiftly onto the copper plate. "I was merely curious."

Cesare pressed on. "But haven't you missed me?"

"I don't believe so." She pouted.

" _I_ have missed you." Cesare's arms scooped around up from behind and threw her down onto the bed. She shrieked while he continued mercilessly, pinning her underneath him her wrists trapped above her head between his fingers. "Will you admit it now?"

Amara smirked. "A little."

Cesare moved his hand to tip her face up before his mouth covered hers. It was the same shock as always when his soft lips met hers. Amara still couldn't understand how they could be so soft when Cesare himself had such a harsh reputation. While he was distracted by other events Amara managed to slip out of his grip, her hands travelled to run over his jaw and through his dark curls. It was just after Amara released a breathless moan she heard the high pitched noise.

"Oh my… Amara." Cesare groaned when she had goaded herself out from under him to investigate.

"I heard something." She shushed him with swollen lips. If anyone was paranoid about being caught it was Amara de' Medici. She was aware, of course, that people talked but that didn't mean anyone could catch them in the act.

Cesare watched her fretting figure for a moment before he too heaved himself from the bed. He knew what the noise, after all he was the one who had brought it into the room. Amara was preoccupied with trying to compose herself that she didn't think to turn back towards the Cardinal until he coughed.

She stared at him with parted lips and rosy cheeks. "What are you holding?"

It was a kitten. She knew what kittens looked like and there one was in his arms staring at her with its green eyes which matched her own. "Do we have mice?"

"I saved it." He explained stroking the creature behind its ears. "Some choir boys were going to drown it for being a witch's demon."

"And you don't think it is?" Amara understood that the common folk thought black cats were the companions to witches and although Amara wasn't inclined to believing in superstition that didn't mean she was happy with letting one into her chamber.

"It's not even black." He held the cat up to show its stomach. Although the most of it was one colour in the centre lay a splodge of white. "See. If you don't want him I can easily take him back to the choir boys."

"No." She barked in horror. With one large breathe she crossed the room to Cesare. "There's no need to be rash."

He allowed her to take the gift into her arms. "I thought you might say that."

"He'll need a new bed." She demanded, placing her new toy onto the soft bedding.

"I'll have one made." He agreed with a nod and then tugged her into him once more. "I have a meeting with my father."

"You should hurry then." She said but her grip on him didn't loosen. "Juan will already be there."

"That is because he has no distractions." Cesare's voice was tinted with humour behind his teasing tone.

Amara tilted her head to one side and enquired, "Am I a distraction?"

"Yes." He replied flicking her nose with his own.

"You should go." He moaned in resistance burrowing his head into her neck causing her to laugh. "I can distract you later – Go!" Amara ordered Cesare while pushing him from her chambers.

* * *

It was well into darkness when Cesare Borgia returned to his rooms. Amara had been trying to sleep without success as her mind raced. She had heard some maids muttering together in a giggling state over the exciting fight that had broken out earlier that day between a Cardinal and his brother. It did not take long for Amara to deduce who they had been speaking of, especially when they ceased in their gossiping the moment they noticed her.

Cesare collapsed onto the end of the bed with a soft thud. Amara raised herself up to try and study his face for bruising or any other indication that he had recently come to blows. There was nothing which gave Amara a reason to give herself a small dash of hope.

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Amara made an attempt to sound uninterested.

"About what?" Cesare sounded tired but that wasn't enough to stop Amara.

"The fight." She told him deciding that it would hours of goading before he admitted it himself. "Have you never heard of Fratricide?"

"Will you now tell me of my foolishness?" Cesare was flustered and frustrated. He had already heard of his stupidity from his mother, father and Micheletto, he did not need Amara to add to that list.

"It was foolish." She insisted.

"And you would protect Juan?" He finally flung himself around to face her. He was angry that was for sure but so was Amara.

The thought of Cesare fighting his brother was one thing but him thinking that Amara preferred Juan to himself was quite another. "You really are a fool."

"Then why do you protect him so?" He accused struggling to get his left boot off.

"Because one of us has to!" She exasperated. "Don't you see? You have to at least have the face of a man who loves his brother. People are going to think that you're not strong."

"Is that what you would have me do?" Cesare blasted. "To pretend we are the perfect family."

"That is impossible." Amara said seeing the humour in a perfect family. There was not one in this world and she doubted there would ever be one. "Still, you must be a family and families are united."

"You're right." He surrendered sinking his head into the palms of his hands. "Of course, you are."

Amara watched him struggle on with his boots for a few more moments before she decided to act. She swung her legs from the bed and approached him carefully. "Let me." She began. It was obvious that he was toying with the idea of letting her help, Amara didn't wish to have another argument so she carefully peeled each of his fingers away to be replaced by her own.

"I'm sorry." She finally said after managing to undo the second boot and placing it to one side. "I only say what I must to protect us. Juan is like a rat – you can't corner him and if he knows you intend to take his place… I worry what he will resort to in order to keep it."

"He infuriates me." Cesare blazed. She let him have that attack, since it wasn't aimed at her.

"I know." She agreed moving up to run her hands through his head. Amara lowered herself onto his knee wrapping her legs around his waist and whispered, "You shouldn't let him get to you this way." When he made no indication that he would speak again Amara decided to continue. "He's jealous, that's all."

"Jealous of what?" He sounded taken back by her statement.

"Everything." Her head was resting on his shoulder now. "The world wouldn't be enough for Juan. He thinks that your family loves you more."

"Not of you then?" Cesare suggested.

"Me?" Amara laughed an astonished sound. "Why would he be jealous of me?"

"I could list a few reasons." He sounded almost uninterested at first. That was until he grasped Amara from under her upper thighs and managed, somehow, to flip her onto her back. "Or I could show you."

Cesare's hands ran along her sides. It felt as though tiny pins prickled through her skin when he touched her and even with the small strange pain it brought she was willing to endure. He bent his head down to the nape of her neck and with travelling hands shifted her nightgown up.

When Cesare and Amara's intimate relationship was new she would gasp as he reached to pull her clothing up. It wasn't like that anymore, although a small part of her was still shocked she no longer reached down to stop him.

His lips trailed down her body planting soft kisses as he went. He found spots to claim for his own, gently biting and sucking until he rested where Amara felt the throbbing sensation. She had found that he often ventured downwards even though she was certain that the smell must have given him some repulsion. Still, he never seemed to complain.

"Cesare!" She had meant to caution him but her voice yielded to his actions at the last syllable. She was close to the edge, the knots inside her stomach were gathering together. Amara whimpered and groaned her legs flailing. She didn't want to be overcome like this, she wanted to be with him, joined with him. Not really thinking Amara reached down, grabbed a fistful of Cesare's dark hair and tugged – hard.

He came up instantaneously a look of disbelief clouded his features. "Little Medici."

"Cesare Borgia." She retaliated in the same voice.

"Are you ordering me about?" Amara was speechless, was she? That wasn't the intended desire she had, she only wished him to stop for a moment so she could gather herself.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She retorted piercing her lips together to stop them from breaking out into a smile. Before Amara could scream or make any noise at all he was on top of her, firmly pressing her down and positioned in the place she wanted him the most.

He goaded himself into her with the same breathless groan as always. She hooked her legs around his waist dragging him closer to her. After a few more curses and murmurs into empty space Amara felt the familiar heat rise up in her cheeks before it spread through her whole body, burning every nerve, every fibre of her being. She was quiet – like she always was – when it came. Her back arched raising her chest against him until it was over.

They lay tangled up in one another, breathless with hearts hammering against them so hard that Amara was certain hers would never stop. Cesare gathered her into him, his eyes closed in sweet content. It seemed he had managed to forget all about Juan with her help. She observed him in that state and wondered about Lucrezia. Her first husband had clearly been a disappointment to her, especially when it came to performing the task she had just committed. Amara had thought that it always hurt but men who were kind would get it over with quickly. Studying Cesare she realised that if other men were so horrid to only think of themselves when Cesare could make her feel like a goddess she would rather die than lie with any other man.

"Cesare?" She whispered not certain if he had surrendered to the nights call yet.

"Hmm…" He answered with a clear struggle.

"There will never be anyone else." She felt the need to tell him that although the thought both scared and excited her. "Only you."

"No there won't." He agreed in a tone that was somewhere between humour and solemnity. He drew her closer, his mouth grazing her ear. "You're mine."

* * *

 **February**

When Amara de' Medici was living at the Borgia Villa she was used to dining with the Borgia family. However, she was still not used to dining in the Vatican as the meals were often accompanied by the Holy Father who she felt rather uncomfortable dining with.

"I propose a wager?" Amara was so focused on the red liquid being poured into her goblet she barely heard Juan Borgia speak.

"Gambling?" The Pope sounded outraged at such a suggestion.

"Please, Father." Juan pressed knowing his father would eventually grant him anything he wanted.

The Pope mumbled something under his breath in a disapproving tone but allowed his golden son to continue. "And what is this wager on?"

"The horserace tomorrow." Amara swallowed trying to avoid either of the Borgia brother's gaze as she reached for her goblet. The horserace had caused some friction and since the fight which had erupted a few days earlier the tension between the brothers had grown.

"A Borgia I would hope." The Borgia Pope chortled at the notion of anything other outcome.

"Of course…" Juan paused, his eyes flicked to rest on Cesare before moving back around the table. "But which brother?"

Amara attempted to fixate her mind on something other than the current conversation growing throughout the room. She moved her hand down and placed it gently on Cesare's upper leg in the hope that it would soothe him.

"Amara?" Her head snapped up to face Juan. "Who would you prefer? Myself or my brother?"

Amara almost stuttered out her answer but with some miracle she managed to make it to the end of the sentence fluently. "I would not like to gamble as our dear Holy Father says it is a sin."

"I'm afraid I must insist." Juan's eyes were firmly set on her now. She could feel the fierce stare burning into her and so it seemed could Cesare since he moved his hand to clasp his hand on top of hers.

With no argument from the Holy Father she couldn't resist the Duke of Gandia any longer. She smiled and with a slight wit in her smile she answered. "I suppose it would be whoever rode the fastest horse."

"That would be Averardo then." Lucrezia tittered, Amara joined her but she couldn't ignore the way Cesare's hand firmly gripped hers beneath the table.

Amara found that she couldn't sleep the night before the horserace. She could feel Cesare steady breathing next to her but while he could place the nagging feeling of nerves aside, Amara could not. She was plagued with thoughts of Cesare's crumpled figure on the dusty floor, trampled by the passing horses while Juan placed the crown upon his head.

When the pale dawn finally graced the room with light Amara decided to stop fighting herself. Cesare stirred as she tried to remove herself from his arms. He murmured his complaint and made an attempt to keep her in his embrace. Eventually, she wriggled herself away from him and the bed.

She slipped on his Cardinal robe, it was something that Amara had become accustomed to doing in the morning. She enjoyed the way the red looked against her skin and the feel of the fabric, which smelt so much of her lover, overwhelmed her.

She brought herself to sit at Cesare's great desk running her hands over the oak. On various occasions she had tried to write a letter to a member of her family but every time she did her mind wiped itself clean. What could she tell them? How she shared a bed with a Cardinal? How they intended to free him of those robes?

No.

"Plotting my downfall, Little Medici?" His voice startled her. Cesare was still lying in the bed, his head resting on the pillow as he observed her with only one eye visible.

"Always." She quipped with a breezy smile.

"Guards! Guards!" Cesare crossed the room while he yelled for help. Amara jumped from her seat when he raced towards her with a growing smile on his face. She shrieked as she tried to flee her predator. Amara was still out of his grip when a servant entered the room. Cesare didn't shift his eyes from her while he ordered, "Fetch me some water. I wish to bathe."

Cesare didn't miss the slight blush that rose to Amara's cheeks when the servant saw her in the Cardinal attire. She only blushed though, as embarrassing as it was a servant would never risk talking about what he had seen. The world was terrified of Cesare Borgia and the rumours that circled him. The servants were surprisingly fast at gathering the water and soon the bath was full. The couple never moved from their watching state, one ready to run and the other to pounce.

As soon as the door was shut Cesare flung himself into action. Amara darted across the room and over the bed with a shriek. It was without success as Cesare caught her by the waist. She could feel his arousal pushed against her, it was always that way in the mornings. He swept her hair to one side, and dipped his head down so his lips could brush her shoulder.

"Shouldn't you be saving yourself?" She advised. "For the horserace."

"Are you worried about my vigour?" Cesare asked pushing himself against her.

"Should I be?" Amara said the words in a tone that provoked so it was hardly a surprise when she was lifted from the floor and plunged along with Cesare into the waters without a care for his cardinal robes.

The race began at noon and even with their early rise the couple did not have much time after they had bathed. Still, they managed to get Amara to the grand viewing stand which had been made specifically for that occasion.

"Amara." Lucrezia had a twisted smile on her face as she addressed her friend the moment Cesare had left. "Your hair seems to be wet."

"I had a bath." Amara was trying to remain an innocent, if only her flushed face wouldn't give her away.

"Oh." Lucrezia trailed off. "It was only that Cesare's was a little damp too."

The two girls met one another's eyes with a small spark before they both began to laugh, Lucrezia from her own amusement and Amara from embarrassment.

The race had caused the crowds that lined the streets of Rome to be rowdier than usual and the Pope not wishing to let down his faithful Christian people had promptly commenced the festivities. The people of Rome cheered and howled as their favourites overturned each other, desperately crying out in effortless attempts to win their wagers. The first lap had to Borgia horses skimming one another, both in the lead. Amara tried to steady her breathing as she realised that maybe Cesare losing wasn't the worst outcome. If he fell there was a high chance he would be trampled. It wasn't long until the people of Rome were given their winner – Juan Borgia.

Amara's heart could have hit the floor the way it wallowed in her stomach at the sight of the chanting Borgia. "Where's Cesare?" Amara asked a little uneasy.

Lucrezia was already making her decent to crown her brother with his title and didn't hear Amara's concern. She continued scanning the crowd for some sign that he was around, surely he couldn't have fallen so far short of the title. When Amara did see him she felt her stomach clench. He was wiping the dust that covered his face away from his mouth, spitting at the ground. It was like a nightmare, a living nightmare.

Her legs moved before her brain began to think. She pushed through the sweat covered bodies, down onto the racetrack and soon she had enclosed her arms around him.

"What happened?" She desperately queried. "Did you fall? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." He didn't mean to be stark, Amara knew that. His eyes darted from her to his brother who was still riding around triumphantly. When his view returned to her once more his face softened as he kissed the side of her head. Amara wondered if she truly looked so terrible.

"What happened?" Amara demanded, her heart was still hammering in her chest.

Micheletto held out his hand to the lady, she had barely noticed him standing nearby. Seeing what he laid out in his flat palm she sighed, knowing what it meant. "Caltrops."

* * *

It was said that Proserpina was stolen from a meadow of delicate, soft, sweet smelling flowers by the God of the Underworld, Pluto. Her mother, Ceres had fought desperately to rescue her gentle child from the clutches of such a man. But, before she could convince Proserpina's father, Jupiter to go into the underworld and take her back Proserpina had fallen into the clutches of love. Being in such a state of distress she took four pomegranate seeds into her hand and swallowed each one with a quiet determination.

Cesare had chosen her goddess for her. She had laughed when she first opened the package before jumping onto the bed to thank him.

After that encounter, she had forgotten about the new dress and the goddess too preoccupied with her nightmares over the horserace. However, now, looking at her reflection she felt a different prickle of nerves settle in her. The dress was made of white silk, or at least it felt that way against her skin but on the top the lace fell over like a waterfall of golden beaded petals and flowers. The dress dipped down her back, only stopping at her lower waist, and the straps which held it up were only thin allowing the world to see her arms. She had not realised, when only wearing the dress in front of Cesare who had seen far more of her, how revealing the dress was.

She was still staring at her reflection as her maids fluttered around her trying to make everything perfect. They noticed his presence before Amara did. She was too busy looking at her breasts, striving to establish if you could see them through the fabric. When her maids stopped with their fretting hands and all rotated at once to curtsy, she turned her head to one side to see him.

"Thank you." Amara was sure to smile at each of the girls in turn. "You may leave us." The maids could barely contain themselves as they fell over one another. They were just as excited as the rest it seemed, as the Pope had set up festivities across the Vatican for them to enjoy.

"I have a gift for you."

"Another one?" Amara said dryly. The gift he had given her when he had first arrived back from his search for Della Rovere was fast asleep on her bedding.

"Yes." His hands were hidden from her sight around his back. "You'll like this one."

Amara didn't stress that she liked the other one as well. The cat had been a slight nuisance at first but in the end she enjoyed speaking to a creature that could not spill all her secrets to the highest bidder. "What is it then?"

He held up his hand to reveal something that swayed gently from his index and middle finger. It caught the candlelight every now and again, gleaming when it did. "May I?"

"Yes, of course." Amara swung her hair to one side allowing Cesare complete access to her neck. He fastened the necklace in place. From closer inspection she could see that it was a pomegranate, the rubies taking the role as glossy seeds.

"Beautiful." He whispered against her neck, his hot breath ran shivers over her.

Amara let her weight fall against him allowing him to breathe the scent of blossom that radiated off her skin. She soon snapped out of her trance when the bell tolled, signally the nights events had begun.

"We're going to be late." She flew from his arms like they burned her skin.

Cesare was in the same place, staring at her with a sigh. "We aren't already?"

"We're always late." Amara reminded him with an edge. She had been teased by Lucrezia earlier and she was sure other people talked.

"I am not the distraction." He argued.

"Well, I won't distract you any longer." And with that decision she twirled on her heel and floated down the corridor away from the rooms and Cesare Borgia.

Amara had almost evented the masque on her own but at the last minute her body had taken on the role of a coward. The idea of entering the room that was already so full of people alone was not the thing which scared her, it was the idea of entering in her current attire.

She peeked from her safe place behind a pillar on the upper balcony to admire the room below. The Pope had outdone himself in this new commission and she wondered if the new Borgia rooms he was building in the Vatican would be as beautiful as the room below.

Amara gasped, her whole body losing its orientation as she tumbled almost over the balcony. There was a hand on her waist – thankfully. She turned to see who her saviour was with a scowl, after all it was their hand which had caused her to lose balance.

"I thought you didn't wish to be late." He smiled so wide she was sure he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"I don't." She answered. "I was waiting for you."

Sensing Amara's apprehension towards entering the masque Cesare tilted her chin upwards, gripped between his two gripped fingers and sincerely informed her, "You are a vision, and anyone who says otherwise will meet my wrath."

"And anyone who speaks ill of you shall meet mine." Amara promised with a small smile. "We should go down – Lucrezia is probably all alone."

He offered her his arm and she was thankful for it. Clutching Cesare's arm made her nerves less obvious to the room. Amara realised her mistake as she reached the top of the stairs, if she had wished to slip in unnoticed you did not enter, late and with the most notorious man in the papacy. Especially when that man was a cardinal, a cardinal Amara was sleeping with.

"My dear." Amara recognised the voice that reached out to her the moment they had landed at the base of the stairs. "You look ravishing."

"Thank you, Juan." She smiled trying to sound genuine. "Or should I say Mars."

"You should." It was a small triumph to have guessed his choice of God. "The God of Warfare."

"But there shall be none tonight." The change in Amara's voice was a clear reminder for both of the Borgia brothers.

"No. Would you dance, my dear? That wouldn't be an issue would it brother?" Juan met Cesare's eyes with a smirk. The three of them were still the centre of attention, the whole of Rome was waiting for the next fight to break between the brothers.

"I'm sure it's not." Amara replied for the tense Cesare Borgia. She supposed that he must have been using every ounce of restraint he possessed not to pull his sword on Juan there. She faced him with an easy smile while removing her arm. "Lucrezia is sitting by herself."

His face didn't change from its hard set state of loathing as he stormed away, leaving her alone with Juan. Amara fought hard to not let her face drop from anything but the smile it was currently holding.

"Shall we?" Juan had a victorious smile upon his face.

"Yes." Amara took his arm trying to maintain an air of serenity as he led her to their dance positions.

"So, you are Proserpina?" He enquired when the dance had begun.

"Yes." She answered noticing that his grip on her hand was a little tighter than was usual for such a dance.

"What dark forces took you hostage?" He laughed thinking that he knew exactly what forces it was.

"Who said she was taken?" The response brought a look which resembled shock to Juan's face. "What if she chose?"

"What girl would chose to stay in darkness?" His voice was low.

Amara didn't need a moment to think of an answer. "One who was in love of course."

Before the God of Warfare could respond to her he let out an unimaginable unmanly shriek of terror. Amara took a step back and only realised at the last moment what had caused his outburst. Little tacks lay upon the shiny floor, the same tacks that Cesare had found on the dusty racetrack earlier that day.

"My Lord!" Amara tried to sound sincere but was afraid that her true emotion would break through.

Juan whipped his head towards her with a nasty glared. Clearly, he partly blamed Amara for the travesty or perhaps he did not wished to be laughed at so. Whatever it was caused him to march away with a slight limp from his slightly wounded foot.

Amara could feel herself losing the battle to maintain her composure. She glanced around the great hall and her eyes settling on the Borgia siblings who were caught up in the hilarity. Cesare met her gaze with a glint in his eye and when he rose one eyebrow Amara gave in to herself – loudly.

* * *

It was later, when the dancing had ended and the guests were starting to fall into drunken masses on the floor that Cesare came for his sister and mistress.

"Come along." He addressed the pair had fallen upon one another in a delicate slump, their limbs intertwining as they giggled against each other.

"Where?" Amara inquired not wishing to move from her content state.

Cesare said nothing. Instead, he held his hand out towards her. She knew then that he wouldn't say another word until she followed him. Amara sighed, placing her hand in Cesare's and another in Lucrezia's making him do the work of pulling them to their feet.

He led them carefully and quickly through the room, up the stairs and finally they all stood on the balcony in the Pope's private quarters. The outside air carried the air of smoke with it and Amara didn't need to wait another moment to realise what it was they were going to admire. She ran to the stone wall almost throwing herself overboard as she strained to get closer to the growing fire.

She breathed in deeply trying to savour the smell of past memories. Amara squinted into the darkness to see the burning figure better.

"What is it?" She inquired, trying to make out the shape of the burning stacks of hay and wood.

"The Borgia Bull." Lucrezia said sweetly.

Amara bit her inner lip. "Oh." Cesare wrapped his arms around the two girls, she felt Lucrezia turn towards her brother and imagined the delight on her face. She supposed that she should have done the same but the idea of the burning bull only made her wonder:

 _"How long would it be till the Borgia's were consumed by the flames they had set around them?"_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hello my lovelies! How are we all? Revising? I should be!**

 **Okay so I have two things to tell you and they're both in relation to this story.**

 **1) I have set up a pintrest which has all the clothing that Amara wears on it. If you just type in Amara: The Unholy Family on boards it should come up. I have loads on there including the one that she wore at the Masque in case you couldn't imagine it.**

 **2) This news is more exciting! I am going to Italy for two weeks! I am so excited I have been planning this trip since the dawn of time. So I am going to be seeing Florence and Rome as well as some other places but I'm really hoping it will give me more of a boost to see where the Borgias lived and Amara (if she was real). I don't know how well I will be able to update though so it may be just a little later than usual because I may not have time to write. Hopefully I will though and it will be much better if I get a real sense for the cities and architecture.**

 **Now back to the story. Please tell me what you think, I cannot stress how much I cannot write if I don't get reviews. I just feel really down but when I get a surge of reviews I can write like crazy it's weird. I love all of your reviews and if you ask me a question I will respond, just so you know.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading,**

 **\- Anna x**


	2. Paolo

**1496**

 **February**

Amara de' Medici awoke after the Masque with a swelling head and her throat scratched, begging for liquid. She lifted her head, which had been resting on Cesare's chest, and twisted her legs over the side of the bed. She let her toes grace the floor a few times before launching herself towards the target of Cesare's desk which held the tumbler of water she pursued.

Amara made the water slosh into Cesare's cup from the previous night. The light liquid felt thick as it travelled from her mouth to the stomach. The goblet rested on her lips as she studied Cesare's still slumbering body. He must have been tired because his arms hadn't stretched over to Amara's empty side of the bed. He had gone off on some sort of business leaving Amara's naked form in bed, she had woken up, dressed with the intention of waiting for him to come back but her body betrayed her.

There was no doubt that Cesare would be asleep until midday. The thought allowed Amara to return to her room, Cesare often argued with her about her disappearances. She pulled back the wooden door but, at the sight of two cardinals in red who were discussing the financial situation of the Vatican after last night's events, she spun back into the room.

"Cesare!" She hissed under her breath and his only groaned into his pillow as a response. "Cesare!" She snapped again, a little louder this time. He continued to groan faintly into his bedding in effortless attempts to respond. Amara was panicking though, the idea of being caught red handed was too much to bear. "Cesare Borgia!" She shrieked soundlessly throwing one of the embroidered cushions down onto his head.

"What?" He bellowed in frustration sitting up and letting his fingers tug against his hair.

She shushed him pointing towards the hallway. "The Cardinals are out there."

A light chuckle left his lips as he rolled over. "They already know, Amara."

"There's an Orsini out there!" She reasoned with him.

Cesare smiled, it was one of his charming political smiles. "I suppose he knows too."

"Cesare…" There was truth in his words, as there always was, but the idea that a relation to her mother knew about her indecencies with her guardian sent Amara's stomach revolving.

"Come back to bed, Amara." His voice had gathered a soothing tone now.

Amara stood firm, shaking her head. "I'm running out of excuses to tell my maids."

"Then we'll have to think of some more." He reasoned. "We can do it from the bed."

"I have to go." She insisted.

Cesare peeled himself off the bed towards Amara with a smile. "They will already be gossiping."

"I have to." She told him, backing up with her arm outstretched, finger pointed in a fruitless warning. Cesare pounced into his attack while Amara understood her role as the prey. "Don't." She warned her arm wavering slightly. This was a game they played a lot and Amara knew she wouldn't win, but that didn't prevent her from trying.

She spun to flee from the bed, until the arm which wrapped itself around her waist pulled her back.

"Little Medici," He hissed playfully into her ear as she surrendered to the soft white fabric. "Let them gossip."

It was a moment before Amara found herself being able to speak again. "What do you think they say?"

"It will be against me." Cesare soothed, planting a kiss to her forehead.

"Is that supposed to calm me?" She let her fingers flow over his arm. Cesare's skin was hot and covered with a layer of dark hair which matched the rest of his body.

"I am a Borgia and what is a Borgia without gossip?"

"Happy?"

"Bored."

* * *

Art breeds sin. Amara had learned that fact at a young age, her mother had constantly reminded the artists that dined with her family and the whole of Florence that this was true. It hadn't helped with Clarice Orisni's popularity, but it did make her shine in Amara's eyes. She enjoyed the beauty of art conjured up by the minds of the unique and obscure.

Cesare had first approached Amara about the fresco when she was almost asleep. She knew of the fresco, it was all the Borgia Pope seemed to talk of recently. Cesare had insisted despite her arguments that she would be the face of Mary Magdalene while he would be the Saviour, Lucrezia the Virgin Mother and Juan St. Peter.

"Why is it that you never came to Florence, Pinturicchio?" She inquired without moving her head towards him.

"There are many painters in Florence, Milady." He was so polite around her and she found the new interaction strange. The portraits her father had commissioned in Florence were done by familiar painters she had known on various occasions.

"True, but there are only a handful with your talent." She had learnt on the occasions she had been present in painters' company that they enjoyed the compliments their work gathered.

"Perhaps one day Florence will call me."

There was a silence while Amara tried to bring herself to ask about a rumour which had been troubling her. "I hear that a Fresco has been commissioned in the nunnery."

His face twisted into a contorted emotion and his brush faltered slightly. "You hear correctly, My Lady."

"What is the Fresco of?" Amara enquired innocently although her maids had already told her what the grand painting Cesare had commissioned was.

"St. Cecilia herself." The patron saint of music. She could feel her body rejecting the thoughts of Cesare's nun lover posing as she was now.

She smiled, a trick Amara had learned to conjure when she was nervous of her true emotion. "And who is your muse for such a painting?"

"A nun." There was no smirk on the painter's face. _He is aware then. He knows about Cesare's relationship with her._

Amara concentrated on staying composed, Pinturicchio's attention resting on her face. "Do nuns pose well?"

"Not as well as you do, Milady." His reassuring face caused Amara to worry. Was it common knowledge that Cesare found refuge in this arms of this St. Cecilia or had she given it away with her fretting?

Amara attempted to control her breath, digging her long fingers into the thorns of the rose she was holding. "St. Cecelia was known for her beauty."

"There is no nun in God's universe who could be captured as well as you and," he lifted his pencil from the sketch before him and stared down at the girl. "No women either."

"There are many women more beautiful than I." Amara could not force away the twisting feeling in her gut. It was the same feeling which overpowered her when she peered into the mirror alongside Lucrezia. Amara often found her gaze flowed from her dark features to Lucrezia's light ones, the way her pale skin compared to her own tanned complexion, and how Lucrezia's golden hair glimmered in a way that Amara's darker locks never could.

"Not in my experience." He defends. "You could be Helen of Troy."

"The face that launched a thousand ships?" A laugh spluttered over her pink lips.

"Yes." He placed his pencil down and stared at Amara. "Who knows Milady, perhaps one day you shall start wars."

"You're very kind, Pinturicchio but no one is going to start a war over me." And the violent pinch attacked her once again.

* * *

"Your day of celebration, Holy Father was a great success." Lucrezia asked her majestic father while plunging her golden fork into the food being served to her.

The Borgia family dined once a week without exception. The Holy Father enjoyed having his children together and keeping tags on his children's pets. Lately the Holy Father seemed to insist that the Medici girl dined with the Borgia family, but Amara did not see this as a sign of their unity rather it was a way for the Pope to make sure she did not turn on him and bite.

The Pope spoke between gaps in his chicken. "It was a triumph."

"The mob does need bread and circuses." Juan muttered beneath his breath with venomous tongue.

"The _mob_?" Lucrezia spat, reeling her head towards her brother.

"He means the people." Amara wondered if Cesare aimed to soothe his sister or anger her. She did this without looking up from almost untouched her plate.

Juan's body moved forwards, a fighting position. "I mean the mob."

"Isn't a mob made up of people?" The Pope had clearly chosen his side in the matter and Amara didn't need to glance at Cesare to know he would be smirking into his napkin.

"Is this a riddle, Holy Father?"

"Well, wouldn't you be one if We took away your titles, Gonfalonier, your dukedom, your linens and your laces, and your filigree codpiece?" Amara wondered why a laugh didn't form around her mouth the way it was to the others around the table. She bit her lip and looked down at the meat on her plate, poking it with her fork. She supposed it was because what he said was true and if it was that meant she too was nothing but a high class mob.

"It was a riddle then?" Juan searched the table for a safe-haven and found none. "A bad one!"

"Well, riddle me this." Amara almost looked up when Cesare's arm hurled itself in front of her to fill his father's plate. "When Adam delved and Eve spun who was then the gentleman?"

"There are distinctions, Holy Father, in the _natural_ order of things between the peasant and the nobleman, between a stallion and the mule…" Amara's mind drifted to the idea of nature. Surely it would be natural for her to marry? But Cesare had forbidden any idea of that. It was her nature to be dutiful while the men around her sort their liberty.

"Between us and the common people?"

"Of course."

"But we all have an eternal soul." Juan did not seem to have an answer for this, only the faint twitch of a smile. "Tell me, if we were to go out one evening amongst the common people, which of you, our family, would guide us?"

"You would need protection, Father." Cesare contribution quickly.

Juan spluttered, his muscles appeared to be tense around his jaw making the words overwrought. "The Pope cannot just walk amongst the rabble like one of them."

"Why not?" The Holy Father aggravated. "Our Saviour did."

"Yes, but he was not the Pope was he, Father? You see, it was a riddle after all."

The meal ended very quickly after that, as the Pope fled the room in a school-boy range. Amara was relieved by the abrupt ending it marked her survival of another Borgia court session.

* * *

The following morning Cesare had woken Amara with a soft whisper. It was strange to be woken up so softly when, at the same time, she was being woken up so quickly. On the days when Cesare did not have to wake up early for mass Amara would fall out of her slumber in slow repetitive movements. Cesare would usually wake first and his movement would cause Amara to follow. Then she would groan and try to win back some of the sheet which covered them, Cesare would let her succeed. It sometimes took hours for the two of them to wake, even then they wouldn't always raise themselves from the bed.

Amara knelt to retrieve the glinting coin when her smooth fingers brushed something warm and rough. Her eyes snapped up and clashed with the small brown eyes that stared back at her. A minute, that's all it could have been, or perhaps seconds? Then the small child had scuttled away from her with the coin.

"They're Jews," He explained rationally, when she returned to her standing position, as though he was enlightening her on some foreign object, "expelled from Spain."

"I've never seen one so close." That's right, so close and yet she hadn't been able to tell if it had been a boy or girl. Amara felt something snap inside of her with a sharp _pang_. Her mother had always told her how filthy they were – the Jewish scum who killed our Saviour – and yet, she felt something for that child.

The way the skin pulled over its cheekbones, the horrified rabid glaze in its eyes, the way that Cesare looked at them. They didn't ooze greed, or a malicious and evil nature…

The only thing Amara could feel radiating off them was fear.

"They're supposed to stay in their territory." Cesare was still using his authoritative tone as he glowered down the alley they had scuttled into.

The Jews had been cast out of their homeland and forced into a strange and foreign world. They were condemned to wonder the world in lonely isolation. The Pope had taken them in not from the goodness of his heart, he wouldn't risk letting them stay against the wishes of Isabella and Ferdinand unless there was a good reason. A reason such as money.

 _They are lost like me,_ Amara thought, _they are alone as I am._

"I'm cold." She said in a hurry grasping at Cesare's arm when he took a step towards the way the child had gone. "Let us go inside."

He stared at her for an instant. Amara knew it was all in this moment, whether he followed her inside or chased after the helpless child. Would she watch him? Would she watch him as he hunted such a helpless creature?

"Please." There must have been something in her voice, or a cracked falsehood in her smile.

"Don't you want to make a wish?"

"No." She said looking at the fountain, for she was sure that there was no one on the other side of that well who would grant her wish to save a Jew. "I wish to go inside."

* * *

Lucrezia Borgia was rocking her child's cradle slowly back and forth. Amara didn't announce herself straight away, instead she waited. It felt wrong to interrupt the bond that swelled between them, so vivid she could almost see the haze.

"Lucrezia." Amara chuckled at the girl's shock, she was the one who had summoned her.

Lucrezia smiled, but it was twisted. The smile reminded Amara of the one her Father's mistress would give her occasionally. "I thought you might have been Cesare."

"And since when did you fear Cesare?" Amara questioned. It wasn't like Lucrezia to fear her eldest brother, he would die before he hurt her.

"I don't." She crossed the room, her hair swinging in the moonlight which seeped in from the open window.

"I heard a commoner attacked you earlier."

"There was no attack." Lucrezia's smile played around her lips. It was as though the floor had told her a funny joke.

"Juan believed there was." He had declared it proudly as she and Cesare were walking to Amara's next session with Pinturicchio. Cesare had left her when he heard the news, without a word or a second glance back at her. She had stared at Juan like a rabbit caught in a trap unaware of what to do next until he had calmly taken her arm and accompanied her to Pinturicchio.

"Did he?" Lucrezia asked with that same coy smile.

There was something about the way Lucrezia tilted her head which irritated Amara's stomach. "Why did you want me?"

"I need you to watch Giovanni." She sighed.

"Why?" There was no question that she wouldn't watch the child.

"I just do." Lucrezia snapped a little causing Amara to recoil. Seeing this she tried again a little softer. "Trust me."

Amara moved forwards to take the child from her arms. He was heavier now, growing fast – too fast. She held him tight against her studying his mother. Lucrezia Borgia enfolded herself in the thick, black, velvet cloak.

"Where are you going?" _Who are you meeting?_ Amara thought it best not to ask the question which raced inside of her.

"I have business to attend to." Lucrezia poured over her reflection in the mirror, pinching her cheeks occasionally.

"What business?"

"I will tell you all later." The blonde Borgia pleaded. "But it's too dangerous now."

The two girls stared at each other. One studied the other for answers while the other studied for mercy. Amara saw so much change in Lucrezia's eyes, compared to when they had first stood with each other. She no longer walked on air.

"Go." Amara accepted she would not have the answers she insisted on. "I will watch Giovanni for you."

Lucrezia crossed the room and placed the grace of a kiss on Amara's olive cheek.

* * *

Amara chewed on her inner lip feeling the tiny grains between her teeth. The child slept, as he always did, curled into an s-like shape.

"Lucrezia?" The dark haired girl spun to see him her pretty mouth formed in a perfect 'O'. His voice changed a little as he saw his lover and not his sister, but his heart matched the same for both of them. "Amara."

"He's asleep Cesare." Her voice was soft yet the warning stayed behind it.

He took a step into the room. "And where is his mother?"

She turned her back to him towards the small child. "I haven't a clue."

He took another step. "Amara…"

"I am serious, Cesare." Her tone attempted the idea of authority but the tension which emanated from her told a different tale. "I have no idea where your sister is."

"Amara…" And another stride.

"Cesare, please." She implored. "This is unfair of you."

"Amara." His tone remained the same wave of disappointment.

"I won't say another word." She turned back to the child hoping to end the conversation. Without her face she could not give Lucrezia away. "Cesare!" She hissed in turn to his arms wrapping themselves around her, his nose pressed against her ear.

"He sleeps as the angels sleep." Cesare observed his nephew.

Amara let herself surrender into his grip. "He does."

"Even if he is born of unholy union." It was the worst thing he had spoken of the child since he had been born.

"Have you not heard?" She tilted her head to see his. "Sin is beautiful."

"Is my sister committing a sinful act?" Amara banished her face from his sight. She would not betray Lucrezia if it could be helped. "Has she taken a lover?"

"I don't know where she is." Amara stressed once more in the hope he would make no more advancement. "She wanted me to watch Giovanni."

Cesare seized Amara tighter from behind, his mouth stroked the tip of her ear. "You are good with him."

Amara's breath lodged in her throat. She didn't always like to be alone with the child, it made her worry about her own issue. Cesare would want children one day and she would be unable to give them to him while he wore his cardinal's robe.

She turned to face him moving onto her toes and clasped her lips over his. "He's a peaceful child." Cesare pulled back first, his arm still wrapped around her waist, their foreheads resting against the others.

"Brother." Lucrezia's sigh brought Amara to attention at once. She stepped backwards stumbling over herself.

Lucrezia wasn't shocked at the arrival of her brother, yet she would have preferred for him to have been absent in her return.

"Sister." His tone was cold, judging.

"I'll leave you." Amara announced.

Neither party seemed to notice her departure from the room, for that Amara was truly grateful.

* * *

She had dismissed her maids.

The constant chattering and bothering had almost driven Amara mad. She watched them as they clattered over one another still giddy from the festival a few nights before. Amara wanted to scream at them, did they not know that Rome moved quickly and if they did not think to catch up it would swallow them?

Amara searched her head for the pins which had not held her hair in place that day and stands of brown had fallen down out of place onto her skin. The actions were repetitive and calming. One pin came out and was followed by a section of curl. Her face was different when it was removed of all vanity, when only Amara remained.

She rose from her seat and crossed the room, her limbs followed her orders in tired protest. The flickering yellow and orange candlelight mocked her senses as it blurred and fuzzed around her. Amara took the cold mental candle extinguisher in her hand and smothered the flame. The control she had over the helpless element soothed her. She did it again and again and again until the room had filled with wafting smoke.

"Don't you have maids for that?" Amara turned to the voice. Cesare's face was set in a smug smile, his body resting against her door frame.

"Don't you have diplomatic affairs to arrange?" She quipped placing the metallic instrument down.

"I am doing just so, Little Medici."

"Lucrezia?" Her name floated around the room capturing the once light atmosphere and replacing it with its own.

Cesare sighed. "Giovanni's father."

"The stable hand?" She almost laughed at the notion of him being of any diplomatic importance.

"He's here."

"In Rome?" Amara's astonishment caused her hands to fall. "Then he is a madman."

"He is unwise."

"She met with him tonight." She felt the pull of agony in her stomach. Why hadn't Lucrezia thought to tell her? Did she not trust her?

"Yes." His teeth only just allowed the words through. "And I have agreed to help her meet him again."

"Do you not disapprove of such a match?" There would be many people who would disapprove of it. God put is in our social order for a reason and almost everyone believed it was not to be disputed. Cesare's face set to a hard cast and Amara decided to leave the matter. "When are they meeting?"

"Not yet."

"When?" Amara pushed.

"Tomorrow night." Cesare watched her face, but knew it couldn't be enough. "At my mother's house."

"If Juan finds out..." Juan Borgia had not been pleased with the idea of a stable boy fathering his nephew. However, he had come to terms with the matter under the impression that the child would never know the grace of meeting his father.

"He will not." He reassured placing his arms against hers.

Amara tensed a little, unable to chance his eye. "Does it not worry you?"

"Juan will not discover her." Cesare firmly resounded. "And it is only for one night."

* * *

The next day was silent and the sun swiftly moved behind the moon casting Rome into the cover of darkness providing the Borgias with a perfect environment.

Amara followed the Borgia siblings as they ascended the staircase which had been cast into darkness for this meeting.

"Should I absent myself?" Lucrezia's mother spoke directly to her daughter over the gurgles of Giovanni. "So my presents doesn't implicate me?"

"In what, mother?"

"A love that would displease your father."

Lucrezia tittered. "Is there such a thing?"

"No." Vannozza smiled at the audacity of such a thing. Amara tried to imagine any member of her own family who would condone a match like Lucreiza's. Her father would not have been in favour of love and marriage between people of differing status. After all, that was what mistresses were for. "Your father is the Pope of love."

"But I would keep this tryst a secret, Mother." Lucrezia continued sheepishly.

"Yes," She took her grandson into her arms. "I am aware. Affections can be lethal in this Rome of ours." She told the bundle in her arms which squealed happily at her.

"He has a right to see his son." Lucrezia declared taking the child back.

"He does." Her mother agreed. "But only once."

Cesare reached down and clasped Amara's hand in his own. "Come, Mother. Let us dine together." Amara let her fingers run over Lucrezia's back as she passed her. "Have you dismissed the servants?"

"Of course." She whispered while entering her dining room.

Amara hadn't stepped foot in the place since she had moved to the Vatican. The lay out was the same, but there were no servants to wait on them tonight in the flickering moonlight.

"I feel sorriest for him." Vannozza insisted, pouring wine into her silver goblet. It seemed she was denied the golden luxuries of the Vatican.

"Giovanni?" Cesare asked perplexed.

"No." Amara corrected him after a moment of silence in which his mother stood proudly staring at her son even while his mistress spoke. "The father."

Cesare's eyes travelled from his mistress to the women who was once belonged to his father. Something must have clicked inside of him as he made his way to his mother, grasping her with both hands. "This needs to be our secret, Mother."

"You know how I love secrets." Cynicism seeped from every pore as she brushed her son away.

"The whole of Rome loves secrets."

"Your father is arranging Juan's marriage." Amara almost gasped at Vannozza's brazen statement, yet her tense body forbid her from doing so.

Cesare's jaw tightened, a vein poked out of its side. "Yes, I know."

"To Spain no less."

"To Castile." Cesare corrected.

Vannozza placed the goblet to her lips, but Amara could not tell if she was drinking. "He is not happy with the idea."

"That does not matter in this family of ours, Mother."

Amara's eyes fluttered closed in the hope it would shield Cesare from seeing her true feelings. When they opened she witnessed Cesare, highlighted by the still candlelight, watching her closely. She wondered if he felt the pain that she did when marriage was spoken of. The loud banging interrupted Amara's mind and forced Cesare to flee from the room.

"It is not such a terrible thing you understand?" Cesare's mother spoke so plainly Amara wondered if she had spoken the words at all, but her mind had twisted them to her thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" Amara was so shocked by the words, she cannot believe they were spoken.

"To love one who has given himself to God." She continued to stare at the older women blankly. It was the first time anyone had spoken of her affair publically, without twisted or harsh remarks. "We must all surrender ourselves to the Lord God. Coming second to God is not a punishment, it is a gift."

As her words were spoken Vannozza appeared different to Amara. She could see herself in a member of the Borgia family, even if she didn't bare the name. Amara wondered if Vannozza was like her once, a Spanish looking courtesan the same as the daughter of Florence.

Vannozza broke the silence. "He's been too long."

Amara had never been more thankful for a blessing in her life. She was confounded by her new information. She was second to God, as many were second to God, as all were meant to be according to his law. She pondered on this in shame while walking out into the dark corridor.

The sight before Amara interrupted her thoughts. Cesare peered over at Paolo who stood a step below him. Amara continued to watch from the cover of darkness, a shadow crossed over her face. He rocked forward and it was all Amara had in her to hold in a gasp.

"Cesare." She stepped out into the lantern's light. He didn't look at her, but she knew he could hear him. "Let him pass."

He did as she said, silently, and without removing his eyes from the stable-hand who corrupted his sister. Amara stepped forward and placed or small hand in his, gripping it tight although there was no recognition on Cesare's face to suggest he had been touched. He was too busy stalking his sister and her lover.

"My baby!" There was pure joy in his cry on seeing Lucrezia and his child who stood in the darkness which consumed the end of the hall. "Let me hold him. Does he have a name?"

"Giovanni."

Amara wondered if she would have felt such joy from having a bastard child. She imagined that she would and for once her heart tore for something she herself would once have argued against. A child out of wedlock brought ruin, not happiness. Yet, Lucrezia seemed happy and Paolo overcome with pleasure. Amara de' Medici had once grown up expecting the world to be handled to her, it was uncommon for her to feel this rage and desperation over the unobtainable.

"Giovanni…"

"Let us give them leave." She pulled on Cesare's arm trying to move him away from the sight before them.

"Giovanni, say 'Papa.'" Lucrezia cooed over her family.

"Cesare." Amara was sterner this time, and Cesare must have recognised the desperation in her tone as he kissed the side of her head and walked back to his mother's chambers, the same blank expression covering his face. Amara took one last glance at the happiness of a child long enough to hear Paolo express:

"He's the most beautiful thing I've yet seen."

* * *

The room was silent and hot. Normally, Vannozza would leave the two largest windows – which faced onto the courtyard and the street outside the Villa – open to allow the cool air in. However, Cesare had demanded that they were closed on this occasion. Amara's cup lay untouched when the Borgia Villa's door began to knock.

Cesare, who had been pacing, whipped his head towards his mother. "Were you expecting visitors?"

"No."

He reached across the table to where his sword had been placed. Amara's hand was upon his, stopping his action before he behaved recklessly. "Let me go." She whispered.

Cesare's stern response came quickly, "no."

"It will be Juan," Amara spoke his name slowly in the hope it would remind him of their previous conversations about the Borgia brother. "And I am more equipped to soothe him than you are."

Amara de' Medici walked from the room, and after five steps was pleased that Cesare had not followed her. Cesare was in no state to meet his brother. Juan had a way of winding Cesare up the way a clockmaker would twist the coils, and Lucrezia did not need a scene tonight. She paused in the safe darkness of the archway; watching Juan stumble over himself as she built the confidence to approach him.

Amara placed a dazzling smile upon her face and stepped forwards into Juan's eye-line. "You have found your way to the wrong house, Juan."

"It seems you have too." He was drunk. Amara didn't need to smell the alcohol on his breath to know that. "What are you doing here?"

"I was dining with your mother, but –

He pushed past her. "I would speak to her."

Amara's voice wavered slightly, but she forced herself onwards. "She was unwell and retired with a headache."

"I must –

"She is asleep, Juan." There must have been a desperation in Amara's voice because the Borgia turned to face her. Amara's heart settled a little and she gave him a small smile. "Tomorrow perhaps?"

The feeling of calm was quickly washed from Amara's mind. Juan's face had twisted into another form of determination as he stared. He strode towards her with long powerful steps and it was all she could do not to step backwards as he reached her.

"Are you alone, Amara?" She could feel his alcoholic breath caressing her skin. She did not close her eyes when he grazed her hand with his own, she was worried it would be interpreted as a form of approval. His eyes travelled from her own, to her bodice and back up again. "Away from my brother's reach for once."

"I see you have found your way home, brother."

Cesare posture was hard and his tone matched it. Amara took the opportunity to move herself from Juan's grip, but only when she went to do so did she realise there had been nothing stopping her from retreating in the first place. She walked towards Cesare silently, she always gravitated towards him.

"Home?" Juan tasted the word like a mystical being.

"Like a pigeon." Cesare smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and they remained hard. "In your cups you have forgotten your home is no longer here."

"I would speak to my mother." Juan called back his original intent.

Cesare placed his hands on his brother's shoulders. "She has retired, Juan."

"I would speak to her." He broke the connection with a shrug.

"Of what?" Cesare followed him cautiously.

Juan turned to face his brother with a stern expression and he spat: "A peasant from Pesaro who has had his way with our dear sister and made his way to Rome."

"For what purpose?" Cesare attempted to keep his tone neutral.

"If she finds that dog sniffing around our family, I would have news for it." Juan's menacing tone broke through once more. He had a pleasure in it which discomforted Amara so.

"Think of what you accuse Juan." Amara found her words quickly knowing Cesare wouldn't be able to keep this charade up for long. "Accusations such as those cannot be easily retracted."

"As Amara has said is sleeping Juan, and you are drunk." Cesare's eyes flickered to Amara. It seemed he did not want her to speak again; he did not want his brother reminded that she was present. "Do you really want her to see you like this?"

It seemed once did not as he agreed, "Tomorrow then?"

"Best tomorrow." Cesare swung his arm over his brother's shoulder. Amara let herself rest on the stone wall and her head fell into her hands. It seemed that they had managed to achieve the impossible. There was a moment of brief hope, and then the baby cried out.

Juan paused and titled his head at his older sibling. Amara lifted her head to see the brothers talk. "Was that an infant, crying?"

"It was from my dovecote." Cesare lied smoothly.

Amara stood and walked towards them in case something were to happen. Although Amara could not tell you what. "You do love those doves."

"Yes, and you woke them." Cesare pushed his brother on and away from Amara. "Shame on you."

"Could I have one of your doves, brother?" Amara willed herself not to shrink under Juan's acute gaze over Cesare's shoulder.

"I'm afraid I love them too dearly to part from them." Her stomach twitched. He had never spoken openly of the love he felt for her – neither of them had. She let herself be happy, it was the closest she would ever get to him expressing his love for her to say it aloud would be too dangerous.

"And so you keep them caged?" Juan smirked. He was clearly pleased at the sharp pang of pain which crossed Amara's face. He was speaking of her, and she knew it.

"Go home, Juan." Amara did not care that her voice showed her exhaustion anymore. "You're drunk and you don't want your mother to wake and find you like this."

"I will speak to her tomorrow." He firmly told his brother.

"I agree." Cesare nodded. He risked a look back at Amara before following his brother out of the large doors. "Tomorrow."

Amara studied the two brothers as one followed the other along the dirt covered piazza for a moment. Her brain drifted for a moment imagining Cesare calmly taking his sword from its home and running it through his brother. The dark liquid would mix with the fine dust creating a paste while the sin of fratricide was completed.

Her brain snapped back into reality as quickly as it had surrendered away. The image clung to her while she steadily closed the heavy wooden doors. Amara seized the silence, her head resting on the wooden patterns which swirled to decorate the door. She could feel them digging in, but she didn't mind. The sensation made her consider the idea of control, and the texture caused her to forget the situation she was in.

All good things come to an end, of course. Her nurse had told her that repeatedly and Amara had been unable to understand it the way she was supposed to. Every day in Florence was beautiful for the young and wealthy. The first sense she could comprehend was when her mother died. Amara thought the world would dismantle with Clarice Orsini's last breath. It hadn't though. The world was uncaring and it continued as normal, soon she would wake to the sound of birds as she always did and there would be little belief in a world that was continually cruel to Amara de' Medici.

Her hands fondled around until her flat palms could push off the cold wood. Amara's legs were not ready to be propelled, they fumbled in an overly quick motion until they learned to settle into their new pace. Amara took them slowly after that sighing as she went until the glint of silver moonlight caught her eye.

The glint was reflecting from across the green from the detail which framed the inside of Cesare's dovecote. Amara turned towards it with a tilted head. "The idiot." She mumbled at no one for she didn't know who could have left the dovecote open.

Amara's original intent was to march across to the doves and secure them once again, but something brought her to a halt as her shoes sunk into the soft grass. It was impossible for the grass to be wet, it had not rained for a least a week now. She continued with more caution constantly informing herself that there was nothing the matter. This guard of a lie was soon shattered to pieces at the sight before her. The doves lay scattered amidst the lawn. They were dead, all of them with entrails torn from their perfect white bodies which symbolised the peace of God.

Her legs juddered unexpectedly, and her body surrendered to nature's force. They were all around her, she could smell them now. Cesare's birds which he loved so much were dead, all of them. _Dead!_ Juan had nicknamed her after one of his birds before, and Gioffre had named one after her. She was one with those birds, Amara was one of them. A sharp convulsion travelled through her body and out of her mouth, the clear bile joining her and her animal counterparts together with bodily fluids.

 _O God,_ her mind screamed, O _God I'm going to die! Rome is going to kill me, and I am going to die._

It would be another hour before Cesare found her sobbing and clinging to the stained feathers.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm so sorry this is ridiculously late. It's so late I can't really say it's late anymore. I just had the worst writers block ever. I feel like everything I write is dreadful. Still, upwards and onwards.**

 **Please tell me what you think. Your reviews made me keep writing and not give up. Without them there probably wouldn't be a story at all.**

 **All my love,**

 **Anna x**


	3. The Beautiful Deception

**1496**

 **February**

The word glorious didn't quite cover the weather in Rome, on that sunny morning. Cesare had managed to calm Amara, after her encounter with the dead doves, by running her a hot bath. He had slept with her pulled close, and when Amara awoke that morning her mood was much brighter.

I was being foolish – she told herself in the mirror – I am not a dove, and no harm will befall me.

Furthermore, Cesare was there with her. He had not left her side once since she had been discovered, surrounded by the dead birds. In fact, it had been his idea to venture out into the Vatican gardens that morning.

"You seem content." Cesare noted watching the small smile play on her face.

"I am."

"And you would tell me if you were unhappy?"

Amara turned to face him with a smirk. "Haven't I always?"

"Yes." He didn't seem like Cesare in that moment. His aura was glowing with doubt, something Amara wasn't used to seeing in such a powerful figure.

She stopped, the sun beating down on the back of her neck, and grabbed Cesare's hand. "When Savonarola is banished from my republic, and my people are liberated, no one shall be able to compete with my happiness."

"And you shall have your happiness, my love." She smiled triumphantly. Her battle was won: she had returned Cesare his Borgia assurance.

Amara skipped a few brisk steps ahead of Cesare and smiled into the warm sun. She tuned back to the dark haired man who was matching her expression. "It really is the most beautiful day."

"It is." He agreed and stepped forwards to wrap his arms around her waist. Cesare trapped her lips in soft confinement. It was only for a second anything long and she wouldn't have panicked, suspecting some Cardinal was watching them from the rose bushes. Amara tilted her head up to look at his face but the sun burned her eyes and she tilted it back down. In this position, peeping over Cesare's shoulder, that she saw him.

Cesare followed her gaze and found his most faithful servant at the end of it. He smiled at her and said, "A moment, my love." Amara forced her lips to turn up in a false action.

Cesare Borgia bounded in the direction of his most loyal spy. Amara watched Micheletto closely. How long had he been watching them? He went about the Vatican unnoticed, he and darkness were one. He made Amara feel uneasy. Her family had assassins, she knew this, but they had fought for her good fortune. Micheletto held no such loyalty to her: he was a Borgia assassin. The second Cesare decided she was no longer useful to his family Micheletto would have no issue disposing of her.

"What?" Cesare himself pushed back from Micheletto, his eyes wide. "When?"

Amara took a hesitant step towards the pair, "Cesare?" Neither of the men seemed to notice her. "What is it? Cesare?"

She reached out to take his hand and make him look at her. When their skin made contact Cesare coiled around to stare at her. He had forgotten with the news that she was there. "Take her back to her chambers, Micheletto."

With a single curt nod Amara was whisked into the arms of Micheletto. When she struggled against him he didn't move. He never gave her a moment's advantage. "Cesare!" She called but he was already walking away. "Cesare!"

"Now!" Cesare didn't stop his strong dedicated strides or turn his head to look back at her.

Micheletto didn't break his pace as her continued pushing her forwards. Amara twisted and curled in his arms her legs being scraped along the stone floor. "Cesare!" He was out of sight by now and the cardinals and servants alike turned to openly gape at her behaviour. She could already hear the whisperings, it didn't matter now she had been seen being carried by a servant, an assassin, nothing mattered now but her protest to it. "Cesare!"

When the assassin's grip on her faltered it sent her spinning into the floral scented room. Amara attached her feet to the floor and stood firm. She was in her own room and she had the power. "What is happening?"

"There has been a scene in the square." He was so calm, so collected that it made Amara's blood Medici blood boil.

She straightened up a little; her chin tilted towards the ceiling. "What was this scene?"

"A suicide." Amara's eyes widened and her body rolled slightly, as though it was losing its ability to stand at the news. Micheletto, however, seemed perfectly content with his sentence like life meant so little to him.

"Who is it? Who is it that's taken their life?" She demanded but Micheletto remained perfectly silent, like a monk. "Cesare has forbidden you from telling me?" He remained wordless yet his mouth betrayed him, it was quick but the twitch was present. Amara laughed in a mocking response. "He gives you one look and in that look you're silenced."

Amara spun around pacing the room towards her gift from Cesare. She had named the cat Galinthius, after the women who was turned into a cat by Hera and banished to the underworld, and she appeared to spend most of her life asleep in Amara's bed. Amara had not touched the cat before it started to purr, she settled beside her feline friend and stared at Micheletto as an Egyptian goddess. "Am I in danger?"

"No."

"Because you are here?" A twisted smile played on her face.

"There is no danger, Milady."

"What would you do," she stood slowly, then began to sway towards her lover's assassin, "if I were to walk out of this room, Micheletto?" She had met him face to face. "Would you stop me?"

"You cannot leave this room, Milady." She bit the inside of her lip to prevent herself from screaming at the servant who dared to order her about.

"But if I were to try?" She tilted her head to one side, and then the other. "What could you do to stop me?"

"I have been advised to use force, if necessary, to keep you safe."

With his words, the room turned. Amara felt like a coin which had been flipped into the air, she was turning, her head was spinning, and floating in mid-air, a place she never knew existed. A place where a servant could use force on nobility.

"And who advised you?" Amara demanded slowly. Micheletto looked worried for a moment, but it was only for a moment, it passed and his face reset. She matched his stern expression while he towered over her.

"Amara!" Cesare's urgent voice carried down the hall. When there was no response his voice returned in a louder advance. "Amara!"

She glanced one more time at Micheletto, the urge to stay and confront him was growing within her, but the insistence in Cesare's voice was greater. Amara picked up her skirts and began her pursuit towards her frightened companion.

"Cesare!" Her breath hitched as she turned the corner into Lucrezia's chambers. "Cesare… My God!" She exclaimed when seeing Cesare carrying her sister into the safe confines of her room.

Suicide…Lucrezia…Suicide…

The words wouldn't conjoin into a sentence that made any sense to her.

"Where is the wound?" Amara enquired circling Cesare as Lucrezia whimpered.

"Upon my heart."

Cesare stared at Amara with dark demanding eyes. "Where is the physician?"

"I want to die."

"No." Amara shook her head. She was confused, Lucrezia had been happy this morning.

"I want to die."

"Will you not talk like that, please?" Cesare whimpered. It sounded, to Amara at least, that Cesare felt what Lucrezia felt. Amara could not remember feeling such a way with any of her siblings accept Giuliano, but that had been years before. "You have a child to care for."

"Now we must both die like my Paolo."

Amara didn't understand Lucrezia's words. Why would Lucrezia kill herself? It made no sense and Paolo wasn't dead. He had left the house last night in perfect health while Lucrezia cried and Cesare washed the blood from Amara. The sound of Giovanni called to her as a mother. He cried without knowledge of his situation and when Amara held him she felt her heart convulse. The poor child was innocent and he did not understand why his mother would not feed him.

"What's wrong with him?" Cesare questioned her quietly before snapping at his nursemaid. "Can't you quieten him?"

"The child is hungry, Your Eminence."

"Well, feed him then."

"He has yet only fed at his mother's breast."

"Then find a Wet-Nurse." Amara barked handing the child to her. "I do not care if you have to bring him every breast in Rome – find one!"

"How did he die?" She queried when the maid left the room. Amara was not sure if she wanted the answer. However, it was necessary for her to know.

"Suicide." Although the words were obvious the confirmation of such a sin was uncomfortable to Amara.

"You're so sure?"

"He left a note." Cesare appeared to wake from a dream. "Look after her."

Amara stopped him before he could leave. "A note?"

"Yes," Cesare listened to her with concern. "You question it?"

"I have never met a stable hand who could write before."

* * *

"Amara?" Lucrezia's weak voice addressed her friend.

"Yes, my love?" Amara returned with as much eager sweetness as she could manage, the sponge in her hand padding her forehead.

"You love my brother?" Her mouth opened, in spite of this nothing came out except hitches in her throat and Lucrezia finished her sentence. "You do."

Amara stroked her golden hair. Her ring caught on the out of place beads. "You should sleep, my love."

"You should leave Rome." Lucrezia's eyes worried Amara. They were so determined and adamant, she wondered if Lucrezia knew something she did not.

Amara felt a cold wash under her skin. "Why, my love?"

"You love a Borgia." Her voice caught on the edge of a weep. "It is a crime in these parts to love what is unlovable."

"You are lovable." She gripped the tops of her arms with a light shake.

"It is dangerous. You will end up like my dear Paolo."

"No." Amara disputed. "I will not."

"Your crime is that you love a Borgia, and your sentence is execution." Lucrezia turned from Amara and she let her body collapse down for a moment before noticing the eldest and most important Borgia enter the room.

She scrambled to her feet and passed the Holy Father. "Your Holiness."

"Give him to me." She ordered, but she was already removing the child from his nurse's arms. "Giovanni, shush, look." She leaned forward and held him close. "Is there nothing we can do for him?"

"She won't let him near her." Amara had been too consumed in the infant to notice Cesare had entered the side room.

"Can we not find him another breast?"

"He won't take one, m'Lady." The girl fumbled and Amara almost felt sorry for her.

Amara wanted to scream. The need to let the rising pressure inside of her in some way was overpowering. She crossed the room, then turned with half a sigh. "She thinks he was executed."

A minute passed before Cesare could comprehend what Amara had said. "What?"

"She told me." Amara continued, knowing that Cesare had heard her and not knowing if she could repeat herself. "Where is the body?"

"In a city morgue." He told her.

"So, it hasn't been disposed of?"

"He is intact."

"See that he remains so."

"It was a suicide." If Cesare's words were meant to change her view of the situation he was mistaken. "He is beyond the grace of a holy burial."

"So?" She demanded. "Even if he did take his own life would you blame him? Who are you to bar him from God's judgement?"

"Don't." Cesare's scolded her, his eyes ablaze. "Amara, I am a cardinal, you cannot speak like that." She was a heretic in that moment, if she had been a peasant she would have been burnt for questioning a servant of God.

Amara opened her mouth, as if to answer, but closed it when a new voice stormed in barking, "Where is the body?"

"In a city morgue." His tone had changed from when he had answered the same question a few minutes ago.

"What's this?" Giovanni's grandfather turned towards him. "Is it fever?"

"It will follow: as night follows day."

The Pope crossed the room, totally helpless for the first time in years. "Cesare, we must bring her to her senses."

"She blames herself." Cesare replied helplessly.

"Why, pray, would she do that?

The son gaped down at his feet, waiting for the Pope to argue. "For entertaining his hopes."

"Well, how could she have done that?"

"I arranged a meeting." Cesare had to force the words out. "At my mother's house."

"Are you insane?"

"You married her to a brute! She found solace with a stable boy." He retaliated, anger burning in his veins. "He came to Rome… he died in Rome."

Amara stepped forward next to Cesare and addressed the man who was only one below God directly. "Your holiness?"

"You would have a suggestion for me?" He watched her like a hawk would study its pray.

"Offer the boy a burial." She braved another step forward.

"He committed suicide!"

"Lucrezia blames herself for his damnation." She looked to Cesare who was watching her carefully, ready to save her the moment she condemned herself. "If she could believe he lives again, through the sacrifice of our Lord, she would find comfort."

"Do you believe he took his own life?"

Cesare stepped between the pair. "It is Lucrezia we should think of."

"Let her speak, Cesare!" His father thundered.

Amara took a long silent breath. "I believe he is dead, Your holiness and that Lucrezia would blame herself for it."

* * *

The Pope agreed to let Lucrezia have her funeral, and in return she let Giovanni drink from her breast. Amara didn't believe that her words had changed the Pope's opinion – that had been his daughter's doing – but she was willing to bask in the fact both mother and son were doing much better now her lover wouldn't be a subject of eternal damnation.

The last funeral Amara had attended was in the Church of San Lorenzo, in the red porphyry sarcophagus. It had been for the burial of her father, who lay next to his brother, Giuliano. It had been the funeral of a great man, a great ruler, a duke and now she watched as her lover put a commoner to eternal rest.

"Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. Sed libera nos a malo. Requiem aeternama dona ei, Domine."

"Say goodbye to your father, my love." Lucrezia lowered her son to kiss his father's lips. "You must cry for me; for I have no more tears."

"Requiescat in pace. Amen." Cesare finished the service and Lucrezia's lover was finally at rest. It was over, but Amara could not pry herself away from his lowering coffin.

"Come away, my love." Cesare stroked her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"He'll be alone." She could feel the cold that he must have been feeling, down in that grave as the soil landed and caused the echo in his coffin.

"He is in God's care now." He soothed. "That is simply his body, his soul is gone."

"We should pray to Mary so she may end his suffering in Purgatory."

"We cannot do that here." Cesare said convincing her to leave.

* * *

 **March**

Amara rested her head back against the cool rim of Cesare's bath. She was trying, unsuccessfully to block out the noise of Juan Borgia's energetic activities above her. Her hair was already dripping wet from the times she had submerged herself underwater in attempts to achieve brief silence.

"I fear I am in the second circle of Dante's hell." Amara commented, earning a deep chuckle from Cesare. Her breasts bounced as she emerged from the now cold water and her nipples pointed in their new temperature.

"They would be in pain if that were so, my love." He glanced up from his pages. He was studying the bible, it was strange seeing him like that, reading his papers and preparing to preach. "Tossed about in the winds."

"It sounds as though they are." She did not try and hide her disgust as Cesare welcomed her into his arms, tossing the papers aside to do so.

Cesare's hands traced her side with lines and circles. "He's been visiting the whore houses more frequently."

"He's certainly enjoying his freedom." Amara commented frowning at the ceiling where the noise seemed to be coming from.

"The pope has given him three days to choose a Spanish bride." He tried to justify his brother's behaviour.

"She'll be royal." Her stare became a glare of confusion. Surely that was everything he wanted? "I don't understand why he's complaining."

"He'd rather stay here." Cesare delved his head into her dark locks and inhaled. Her smell was a constant reminder of how the world had blessed him. She was the only gift God had given him, untainted, untouched by the horrors of the world.

"With his whores?"

"He's fond of them."

"She must be fake." Amara remarked as the girl let out another loud moan.

"She may not be acting." He retorted. "Juan is known for his vigour."

"No one is that loud regardless of their partner's… vigour."

"I would beg to differ."

"I will tell you when I find a partner to match your brother's vigour." Amara's teasing was too much for Cesare to handle. He flipped her over, her legs kicking up into the air with a laugh. His lips attacked her neck with light, feathering kisses. She arched her back and tugged him closer with a handful of hair. Then, she lifted his head with a heave and captured her lips over his, she longed to taste him, to have him near. Her hand travelled down, feeling to undo his laces, while his travelled upwards to caress her under the shift.

"Help! Help!" Cesare pulled away at the sound and Amara's hand pressed him back from her as she listened.

"What was that?" The air was so still her soft voice became loud.

"Help!" At the new call Cesare flung himself from the bed, grabbing his sword as he went.

Amara raised herself with her wrists, her plump lips not believing what they were about to say. "Is that Juan?"

"Stay here." Although Cesare had picked up his worried pace he still had time to give his young mistress orders before disappearing from the room. Amara was not one to be ordered in that moment. The sound of Juan's voice scared her more than anything she had ever heard. While Juan often used his animal instincts of lust, anger, and jealousy, he had never before resulted to fear. The emotion caused Amara's feet to move swiftly behind her partners.

"Help!" The sound of Juan's pleading only became more frantic as they approached his room.

"My God!" The blasphemy did not come from Amara but Cesare and she did not witness the reason for such a sin until he had moved further into the room.

The room was dark and smelt of carnal sin. Portraits lined up in a semi-circle around the dishevelled bed where the horror was. Juan lay covered by the whore he had paid for and the chandelier which pieced her middle.

"Get her off me." He whispered and then bellowed, "For the love of God, man, get her off me!"

"Oh my God!" The level of Juan's voice brought her to reality. "Medics…" Amara trembled as she ran from the room. "MEDICS!"

"M'lady?" The squire who presented himself to her looked dazed and tired.

"NOW!"

"My Lord?" Amara had not seen Cesare appear behind her, his eyes manic, she could almost hear his beating heart.

"Medics, NOW!" He commanded and only a fool would disagree with him.

"Yes, Your Eminence."

"Per istam sanctam unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam adiuvet te dominus gratia spiritus sancti, ut a peccatis liberatum te salvet atque propitius alleviet" Cesare mumbled the words of her last rites quickly and quietly. The girl was still alive and she twitched occasionally to save herself, but even Amara knew enough about death to know that she had little hope.

She stopped after a few seconds, it was a moment when seconds became hours. Cesare presented her with the sign of the cross while Amara prayed that God would be merciful.

Amara's eyes searched the room for a sign of religion, yet she found nothing. Her legs carried her to Juan's bedside, but there was nothing there. Finally she turned to him and demanded to know where his prayer beads were.

"My rosary?" Juan remained in a daze his face stained with blood.

"Yes."

"Amara…" Cesare placed a hand on her shoulder, a hand which Amara brushed off.

"A minute ago you were inside this women." She said with both anger and repulsion. "Does she mean so little to you?"

"She was a whore…"

Amara's mouth opened, but something deep inside of her told her it was futile. There was no point in explaining to these men how they despised her. The smell of iron became overpowering and she soon found herself fleeing the room. She did not feel her feet meet the cold ground as she moved back into Cesare's room. She held the polished black and white bead, which had been on her bedside, between her fingers and slowly started to pray for the mercy of God.

* * *

"Amara." She turned, the Roman mid-day sun hitting the beads which were tangled in her hair. It was the last time Juan would see such a thing for months, perhaps years.

"Juan." Amara greeted him, although she had not been expecting him to enter her rooms. She parted her red lips to speak but decided she did not know what to say.

"She was buried." There was no need to explain who she was. The girl's death had haunted Amara's dreams. "A holy burial."

"I am sure her family will be thankful." Juan continued to stare at her unable to voice that the girl had no family and she would not be missed by anyone.

"Will you be sad to see me go?"

"Of course." Amara smiled. The answer had been one which Juan wanted to hear and one of truth. Although Juan could be difficult he was a specific dynamic to Rome, Amara did not know how to survive in a Rome without him.

He was closer to her now, she had not realised how close until his breath hit the back of her neck. "I shall miss your pretty face."

"Maria Enriquez de Luna is very beautiful, I am sure you'll forget all about me."

"No one could ever match you, Amara." There was something in his eyes and Amara felt strange growth of pity for him. "Leave my brother. It is ambition that rules his heart – not love."

"Brother," Amara stepped back from Juan, she had not realised that his hand had been touching her until the warmth was gone. She focused in on Cesare, he was blocking the light from the corridor as he stood in the door frame. She could hear his teeth grating as he spoke, "you will be late to your own parade."

"Indeed, brother." Juan agreed, then returned his gaze to Amara, running his thumb over her warm cheek. Her lower lip quivered a little and her breathing increased. "Little dove, think on what I've said."

Cesare remained in his place until his brother had vacated the room. After that he stormed towards Amara with a force. "What did he want?"

"To say goodbye." She moved up and pressed her lips gently to his, but his muscles remained tense. She sighed, "It was nothing."

"It is a good thing that he's leaving." Cesare clenched and unclenched his fists in repetitive patterns. "Rome will be lighter without him."

"Yes," She kissed him again in the hope it would help him block out the image of Juan touching her. "We should go, Cesare, we cannot miss this parade."

The walk to the parade was quiet. That morning Cesare had been excited that Juan was finally leaving his father's side, but now Amara seemed to have spoilt his mood. She took his arm, letting her thumb draw light circles on his arm and although Cesare gripped her hand he did not look at Amara.

"Lucrezia." He finally greeted his sister with the smile Amara had been hoping for while she blinked into the bright mid-day sun.

"A sad day to lose a brother, is it not, Cesare?"

"Indeed," Cesare's mood returned to what it once was. "I wonder that the sun even dares to shine."

Lucrezia gave a gracious, light, beautiful chuckle. Amara felt her stomach turn. That was what Cesare wanted, someone who would be glad to see Juan leave as much as he was. Amara thought she would be happy with Juan's departure, but as she watched him leave her heart was sinking. The petals that she threw into the air twisted before being trampled on by the peasants below. Amara continued to smile and throw the petals without thinking.

It was not until Micheletto's exhausted figure came galloping into the Vatican walls that Amara removed her gaze from the floating confetti. Cesare leaned over the stone wall before pushing himself off towards his partner.

Lucrezia turned to Amara and whispered. "Why does my brother run?"

"Micheletto does not ride that hard for nothing."

* * *

"What is it?" Amara stormed into Cesare's chambers. "What did Micheletto tell you?"

He looked up before continuing to shuffle the papers on his desk. "Nothing to concern yourself with."

"That's not true." She ripped the ink stained paper from his hands and demanded his full attention. "If it concerns you it concerns me."

"The French are marching towards Rome."

"Again?" She staggered back wondering if she would have preferred not knowing the news. When Cesare strode around the desk Amara managed to regain herself. "But the king has the Neapolitan disease."

"And nothing to lose it would seem."

"And will his passage through Rome be peaceful?" Amara didn't understand how such a thing would be possible.

"No," he answered slowly, "not if he gets his way."

"He cannot get his way."

"Little –

Amara cut his sentimental name calling off. "I am tired of men plundering through my cities like they are Gods and the people are nothing."

"Your cities?" Cesare sounded more amused than perplexed.

"My mother was roman. I am half of my mother." She did not enjoy the smirk set on his face. Cesare must have realised this with her next sentence because his face became sincerer. "I see the children in this city and I feel their innocence in this corruption. I would not have France take that from them."

"Yes." Cesare nodded in agreement his finger running over her cheek. "All innocence shall remain."

Amara did not have the heart to tell him that it may be too late for that.

"You're tired." It was late and Amara had been battling the restless Cesare for hours. It did not matter that the hour was designed for sleeping, Cesare would do no such thing until he was sure his plans were secured. "You should sleep, Cesare."

He dismissed her with a shake of his head. "I need to commission these cannon."

"They are already working on them. There is nothing more you can do." When her lover did not even gaze upon her face Amara climbed from her position. She would make him come to bed if he would not move his own limbs. "Come to bed."

"Come to bed, Cesare." He shivered as her breath past her ear and she was glad. Well, she was until she spotted the paper in front of him. Cesare had commissioned over a hundred cannon, that couldn't be possible in three day. "How long does it take to build cannon?"

Cesare stirred from his work daze to cover the papers from her sight. "You shouldn't worry yourself with thoughts of that."

"Surely you cannot build over thirty cannon in a day…" Amara did not mean to challenge, but to think allowed instead.

"Enough, Amara." He snapped and Amara withdrew her hand from his as though something had burnt her. Cesare sighed, "Forgive me. I did not mean that."

"I have great faith in Victor, my Lord." She would not let him see her face as she marched away. She would not let him have the knowledge that his words stung so deep. "I have had a portrait of Giovanni commissioned for Lucrezia from him."

"Amara." She heard the sound of Cesare's wooden chair scraping back from the desk. "I'm sorry."

"He'll sort the cannon out." "I know little of warfare."

He extinguished the candle on his desk with a single blow and Amara was plunged into darkness. She didn't care, it meant that Cesare could no longer see her fallen face. The floorboards creaked and the bed dipped. Amara rolled herself over and swaddled herself in the familiar fabric like a babe would.

His breath hit the edge of her neck and regardless of her current feelings he still managed to make her shiver. "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." She argued, but her body still moved away from his. "I'm tried, Cesare."

"I worry for you." He persisted and the desperation Amara had felt before melted away like snow in the sun.

She turned to face him. Even in the dark he was beautiful, she studied his profile as he glared at the ceiling. "There is no need for you to worry about me."

"If the French march on Roman soil they will –

"They will not." The prospect of it was too horrible to imagine. If the French king did manage to invade Rome would be at the heart of hell. "Your cannon will stop them and people will commend you for your bravery. They will see you as I see you. A warrior, not a cardinal."

* * *

The sun was angry and hot in the days which followed. Amara was unsure if the men who worked on the cannon and pulled the weapons up onto the walls, which acted as a barricade in such dangerous tricks as the one Cesare was about to play, would keep their morale or health in such conditions.

Her mother used to greet and wait on those her Father worked with. It was important that they were happy and refreshed in the days to come. Although Clarice would have served nobles and charmed dignitaries in diplomatic situations Amara thought it was only right for her to help those men who served Cesare and the city.

Cesare had noted her presence and commented that he did not understand why she was there, yet he did not force her out. He ordered Micheletto to keep an eye on her while she presented the men with water.

When Amara entered the burning furnace where the cannon were being formed she recognised the figure who Cesare had commissioned this whole affair through.

"In Florence my family's plaza is littered with bronze statues." Victor appeared to be shocked to see her and Amara almost felt sorry for him. In Florence, artists would know just who entered and left their studio, but Victor had not thought to set guards on the door. "Before a sculptor can make his bronze masterpiece there is a model made in plaster. Did you know that?" "Of course you do, you are an artist after all."

"Yes, m'lady."

"The models can look so alike to the finished product." She circled the cannon which held the holy crest of the Pope. "Take your cannon, for example."

"Yes, m'lady."

"Did you know that Michelangelo is coming to Rome?" The young artist's head snapped up at that and Amara absorbed herself in her accomplishment. "He was quite close to my family once," she smiled sweetly – innocently. Michelangelo had dined with her on several occasions, he was the Medici artist and everyone was aware of the affection he held for the family, for Amara. "And he wrote to tell me." Amara paused, waiting for the artist to make some kind of response. "I could recommend you, if you would like that. Would you like that?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"Good." Amara clapped her hands together. "I'm so pleased when I can help aspiring artists, regardless of circumstances which would, traditionally, hold them back." She turned to face Victor slowly. "Of course, in return, you will have to be truthful with me, _Victoria_."

* * *

Wind beat against the glass of Amara's chambers when Cesare threw open the door and informed her of his plan. "You're leaving."

She glanced over at her lady's maids and dismissed them with a quick nod before continuing their conversation. "What?"

"You, Lucrezia, Giovanni, my mother – all of you, leaving now." He was panicked. She could feel his hot Spanish blood beating him into a frenzy.

"To go where exactly?" She would remain calm. Cesare was a bull and you did not torment a fuming bull; you calmed him.

"Away, from here, from Rome." He raced to her drawers and began to empty them. "The convent of St. Celia will take you in. You'll be safe there."

"Oh, I forgot how good nuns were at fighting." Amara remarked with a slight raise him her brow.

"Not today, Amara." Cesare scolded, his eyes cold.

"Cesare," She removed the pile of clothes from his hands with a gentle smile. Jesting would not work today, but her physical contact demanded his attention. "Rome is perfectly safe."

"You don't know everything about Rome."

"Yes, I do." Amara replied, the calm in his storm.

"The cannon… they're…"

"Fake?" She finished his stuttering sentence with ease. "Plaster? I know that."

"How?" Cesare had expected her to be angry with him, to shout about her safety being put in danger.

"I have seen sculptures made since I was a child, Cesare. I know the difference between a mould and the finished product as clearly as we see day or night."

"It does not change anything, Amara." He corrected himself onto his intended path. "If the French army realises my corruption they will –

"Kill me?" Amara retorted. "Pillage, rape? You don't think I know that. I know, Cesare, but I would rather die by your side than anywhere else."

Cesare closed his eyes and pinched the brow of his nose. She infuriated him, he should take her over his shoulder and throw her out of Rome. "I will not see your die."

"I will not die and I will not leave you." She stepped into him, her hands coming up to stroke his head and play with his soft, dark curls. "I did not leave before and I will not now! I love you and you do not abandon those you love."

"So, that's it." He mumbled into her pink, plump lips. "We are doomed, my love. We will be together no matter the cost."

Amara began their pledge. "In bliss or woe."

"Bliss or woe." And Cesare completed it.

* * *

The French army was spotted miles from the holy city just before dawn. Cesare had been silent the night before, finalising his plans, but he had not let Amara leave his view. She had submitted to his plans in the hope it would calm him. However, the aim was not achieved and it was a restless night for the pair.

When Micheletto knocked on Cesare's chambers the silence did not break. He nodded to his master, who returned the gesture while Amara secured his armour into place. She pushed her feet up so her lips could clasp onto his. She did not need words if he would kiss her, it was a soundless communication.

She surveyed Cesare as he rode out of the city gates. He was so calm and sure that Amara could not help the guilt which attacked her gut. She was not sure of the city's safety. There were children who slept right now unaware of the horror they might face in a matter of minutes. They were children like Giovanni, who currently slept in his mother's arms. He did not understand the danger he was in. Amara's guilt increased as she watched the mother and child, she should have insisted that they leave.

"Open the gates!" Though the call was given minutes later it felt like a lifetime to Amara. When Micheletto returned to her side she stared at him waiting for him to confirm or deny her haunted thoughts. His face, as always, did not give her any inclination. She gripped the stone balcony in front of her praying it would hold her up as she searched for Cesare.

He was shouting orders at the servants around him and they were lost in the wind before Amara could hear them. She did not move, her marrow had frozen her to the spot until Cesare ran into the room, cannon ball in hand.

"You should melt down that bell, Father."

"And why would have be my son?"

"To make cannon!" He threw the ball down with great force and laughed as it smashed onto the floor.

Amara clutched the silver cross around her neck while Lucrezia ran towards her brother with the same joyful expression as her brother's face held. Cesare met her gaze and opened his arms. Amara complied to his invitation with poor delight and whispered in his ear: "a warrior," as he burrowed his face into her hair.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry I'm so late, again... I just finished my uni exams and I really didn't have time to write and every time I did try to write I was too exhausted. I want to make a special thank you to who wrote me such a lovely message to me which gave me a boost in writing inspiration. I hope you like this chapter and you're all well.**

 **Love you all,**

 **Anna x**


	4. Stray Dogs

**1496**

 **MARCH**

Amara de' Medici had retired from the festivities celebrating Cesare's triumph exhausted. He returned to her door way panting and she dropped the book with a smile. Yet, when she saw his posture Amara changed.

"Cesare?" She asked the figure as he leaned against the closed wooden door watching her. "Cesare, what is it?" He slowly removed his hand from his pocket revealing a large bronze key. "Cesare? What happened?" His hand twisted in the lock sealing them both in and Amara began to panic. Had her brother done something? Had he turned her into a prisoner of war?

Amara only had a second to study his figure, his eyes were bloodshot and his mouth set, until he pounced into action. His mouth was on hers before she could say another word, her mouth still open in anticipation for the sentence. "Cesare." She didn't know what she wanted from him as her back pressed against the hard ridge of the desk.

"Amara." He moaned against her in satisfaction and lust. Cesare gathered her up and placed her down onto the table, hoisting her skirt up as he went.

There was a second of silence when Amara felt the awkward push. The desk and the couple didn't fit right, it was too tall – or small – all Amara knew was that Cesare was frustrated by it.

He scooped her up his hands cradling the softness of her buttock's crease. She gasp when he slipped into her, her teeth grazing the smooth curve in his shoulder. Amara's hand grasped hold of his chestnut curls as he slammed her back into the wall.

She could hear her maids as they gossiped and gathered below her open window. If they looked up they might see, but Amara was certain that if she opened her mouth to tell Cesare to move her moan would betray them.

They continued in this fashion. He repeatedly pumped against her. She couldn't contain herself for much longer, the wall was rubbing against her back, and she dug her teeth into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming.

After a minute, he spilt himself into her and then collapsed to the ground holding her close to him while she convulsed around him – riding her high.

"Promise you'll never leave me." She opened her mouth to speak but was stuck dumb. "Promise me!"

"I promise." She swore and truly meant it.

* * *

The narrow path was dark with lanterns lining the high brick walls. Lucrezia had shown her the secret viewing point when she first arrived, but until now Amara had no interest in using it. She pulled back the heavy red curtain and stepped down into the small square room.

The Duke of Milan, Lodovico Sforza, arrived first. He appeared the same as he had four years after her father's death. He had sent the finest doctor in Christendom to save him, but the gift was of little use in the end as he succumbed to his illness. Amara had wanted to see him for that reason. She wondered if her father had once looked like him and graced the papal throne room in the same manner.

"She's very beautiful." Being so wrapped up in her memories Amara had not noticed the young Borgia girl sneak up behind her. She was about to ask who it was she spoke of before her eyes settled on the young couple behind the Duke.

Amara's brow creased and her head tilted slightly to one side. The face was familiar yet she could not place where it was she had seen it. "I've seen her before."

"In Florence?" Lucrezia speculated.

"No." The face was so close to revealing its secrets.

"Then where?"

"I cannot recall."

Footsteps to the left of the pair broke Amara's concentration. Her heart tightened as Cesare appeared between the pair. "What have I missed?"

He tugged his cardinal's robes over himself and he struggled to find the fastenings until Amara turned towards him to relieve his hands of their job. "You're late, brother." Cesare raised an eyebrow to Amara at his sister's disapproving words. "Papa will not be happy."

"Little sister, I cannot control everything." He left a burning kiss on Amara's rosy cheek before sauntering down the steps to take his place at his Father's right hand. He worried her lately, his heart had begun a journey into darkness and she was unable to reach him so easily.

"Do we have suspicion of each other?" Cesare's firm voice resonated with disgust towards the Dukes. "Or is it hatred?"

"If the Cardinal will let me finish."

"The cardinal would find how hatred turns to love." Cesare quipped with a mocking laugh waiting on his pallet.

"My son." The Pope scolded and when Cesare took a small step back Amara's heart began to rest.

"The French have laid waste to the Papal States as they march north. Their King intends to leave a desert behind him by the time he reaches Milan there will be nothing left of this paradise we live in."

"So why did you welcome them in?" Cried Cesare.

Lodovico stepped forward at this point, ready to save his friend from butchering all their political hopes by answering Cesare's question. "Our proposal of the armies of Venice, of Milan, and the Duke of Mantua will combine to rid of this French plague."

"20,000 of our troops will meet near the apennine." The Duke of Mancha proclaimed his war plan proudly. "We will annihilate their army and restore the reputation of Tuscany."

"Tuscan?" Cesare's snort was not unnoticed by Amara's Florentine pride although she pushed it down inside of her. He did not mean to insult Amara, in fact he did not see her as a member of Tuscany or Florence in recent years.

"And Milanese, not to speak of Roman."

Cesare shook his head. "Under whose leadership?" He had not forgotten, despite everyone else doing so, that he was the one who saved Rome from French arms only a few days ago.

"Under the leader of Francesco Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua."

"His Holiness has proved his courage to the whole of Italy, and the whole of Italy will rally to his cause." The Duke had clearly practiced his speech countless times before reciting it now. The words left his mouth in a loud, dislocated fashion.

"And why not just let the French limp their way home?" Cesare inquired already knowing the answer.

"It is a matter of honour." The Duke's face was tense. This was not the way he had meant the meeting to go.

Cesare held back a chuckle. "Honour."

"The word meant something once."

Amara turned away from the scene unfolding below her. Her swift footsteps echoed throughout the empty corridors as she managed to maneuverer her way towards the large wooden doors Cesare would step out of in a few minutes. She prayed fiercely in her mind that he would make his way out of them so she could reach him before he made a careless mistake or approached the Dukes inside the papal throne room.

Her prayers were answered positively as she saw her lover exit the hall. His face remained in the same contorted manner when he saw her and as he approached her.

"He talks of honour, there is nothing honourable in –" Cesare had no confusion about why his ward was with him now or how she had heard his actions.

"Hush, Cesare." She attempted to calm in.

"They have as much blood on their hands as the French." His face was puckered with loathing.

"Cesare." She took his hand and squeezed. Amara realised that she was the only one aware of the buzzing people around them. "Be quiet."

"My Lady Medici." She closed her eyes and regained her composure before turning around to face Lodovico Sforza.

He took her hand straight from Cesare's and pressed it to his hot, clammy mouth. "My Lord Sforza."

"I have not seen you since your father's funeral." The reminder of the event caused her smile to falter and lose its truth. "How much has changed since then."

"Indeed, My Lord." Amara did not fail to miss his eyes glancing between herself and the Cardinal who had rebuked his friend and she was sure that Cesare had not missed it either. It seemed that gossip from Rome reached as far as Milan. "I am glad to have this moment to thank you personally for the care you supplied my father during his final days."

"I am only sorry I could not help your brother more." The words that left the Lord's mouth were false ones.

"And I am sorry he cannot help the pope in his French plight." She apologised with returned sentiments.

"I hope you will visit me in Milan one day."

"I hope for that too."

"Good day, My Lady Medici." He gave her a polite bow, once again kissing her long fingers.

His hand must have remained on hers for a little too long and his eyes lingered longer than Cesare would have liked because he clenched her free hand. "Good day, My Lord."

"Now you are friends with Milan too." Cesare jeered into her ear as they both watched the Duke walked away towards his allies.

"And if you were wise you would be." She turned to face him before pulling Cesare away from the crowd. "Let us remove ourselves of this place."

"What was that?" She probed when they finally reached the safety of his quarters.

"I spoke my thoughts, Amara." He argued yanking his robes off.

"No." She wouldn't let him get away with that. "You forgot yourself."

Cesare's annoyance was becoming overwhelming as he struggled to remove his attire in his rage. "As you forget that Milan allowed Italy to be pillaged like a common whore."

"I do not forget anything, Cesare, but some things are bigger than honour."

"Now you speak of honour."

There was a silence and Amara took the opportunity to study her lover who was usually careful in politics. She approached him with careful footing and although he flinched when she tried to remove his robe he eventually surrendered. "What happened?"

"The French attacked my nunnery." He crumpled down onto the bed.

"I…" She could barely breathe. They rejoiced while the French arms decided to attack the defenceless. "I'm so sorry, Cesare."

"There were no survivors." She remained silent. Her rival was dead, the women Cesare had been besotted with before he had committed himself to Amara was gone. She would no longer have to worried about losing his affection. Yet, there was no happiness when looking at the broken man before her.

"You'll avenge them." She hushed him bringing his head down onto her lap. "I promise you."

* * *

 **APRIL**

The days that followed Amara were full of quiet and rest. Cesare had been absent from court, taking Micheletto with him. Meanwhile, Lucrezia had been spending more and more time with Giulia Farnese, a women Amara could not stand the sight of.

Instead Amara lay on the bed, a book in hand, as she tried to blank out the noise of her busy maids. So when the knock on her door sounded it made little difference to her state of mind.

"Enter!" She called, not really caring who it was who wanted access to her room. She only knew it wasn't Cesare and that was the only person she craved.

"My Madonna…"

"Michael." It was barely a breath from her now smiling lips. "Michael!" Her book tumbled to the ground, uncared for, as she ran towards his figure. He was taller now when she embraced him, four years her elder but always hers.

"I have missed you." He whispered into her ear while holding the tight embrace. Her father's favourite artist, Michelangelo, had sat at their family table since she was ten years old.

"So much time has passed." A sudden sadness overwhelmed her as she stepped back to appraise him. "I'm afraid the girl you miss may be gone."

"How can that be when I see her before me?" He was holding her at arm's length now. It came to her attention that he was studying her as much as she studied him. He was most likely comparing her to the portrait which hung in the Medici Villa, or it had before the Villa was sacked. She wondered if it had been burned in Savonarola's hunt for vanity.

"Will you drink?" Amara asked, pushing away the upsetting imagine of her smoking likeness.

"No."

"You have not changed then." She smiled pouring her own mixture into a finely decorated glass. "You still deny yourself the pleasures of life."

"Even if I had all the money in the world." His answer was always the same. The familiarity of it gave Amara a sense of comfort. Perhaps she could pretend, if only for a little while, that things were not so different now as they had been then.

"My brother is not happy with you." She jibed with an overly disapproving expression.

Michael sighed. "Yes, the snow sculpture."

"He was very set on having it." Piero had commissioned Michelangelo to show the Medicis were as powerful now as they had been under Lorenzo, but he had not taken into account the fear which the French posed towards the young artist who fled the city.

"I met with Guiliano before we left Florence." Amara's heart sunk at the sound of her twin's name. She had tried so hard to keep him from her mind, and she had succeeded until now as Michael held out the think yellow envelope. "He asked me to give you this."

"I can't." She shook her head and took a large step back from him. Then, she turned away and closed her eyes in the hope that she would forget the image of Michelangelo placing the letter into her drawer, fighting back the tears which threatened to reveal her true feeling. "How was Bologna?"

"Quiet."

"Safe from French arms though." The threat of her brother had passed and she could once again pretend he no longer existed – it was easier that way. "I am glad that Piero didn't get his sculpture if it means you are safe."

"How are you?" He walked towards her and once again began to scan her face. "Are you safe?"

"Yes."

Michelangelo scoffed. "With the Borgia family?"

"I do not fear the Borgias in Rome." It amused her now, how scared people were of the unholy family.

"You should." Her amusement annoyed him, it was not a game to him. The Borgia family held danger all around him and he was in no illusion that they would sacrifice Amara if it meant they could live another day. "Savonarola speaks of their evil."

"Do not tell me what the friar speaks." Amara spat at the friend. She could not remember the last time she spoke to him like this, if she ever had. "I know what he speaks."

"He is not evil." She stared at him in amazement. How could he believe such a thing? "He is devout."

Amara's brow furrowed as she questioned him. "He would see my family cast out."

"He would see evil cast out." He corrected.

"Then I am evil?" The words cut deeper than she had expected and no amount of acting would have hidden how the blow hit her.

"No." He dived upon his mistake. He had not meant that at all, it was so hard to explain how he felt. "But I do not think it is as one sided as anyone would have us believe."

"Always the voice of reason." Amara jeered at him before feeling a wave of jealous defeat. "I cannot afford reason, Michael."

"Why do you look so sad, Madonna?"

"I cannot help people anymore." She gave up, placing her exhausted body onto the bed. "You say my family's power was an evil, but I could help people then. I have nothing now."

"Look around you, you are in a unique position to help anyone." He crouched in front of her. "Who do you want to help?"

"The unfortunate."

"Look around you, Amara, you are one of the most powerful women in this hell, if you play your cards right. If you want to help the unfortunate: help them."

* * *

Amara returned to her empty room in darkness. It seemed her maids that given up hope of her returning to her chambers for bed and instead had left it empty, ready for the morning when she would return. She sighed, fumbling in the darkness for a match to light one of her candles. Suddenly, from the gloom, appeared the shape of a man. Amara reached for the door but missed and found her hand colliding with the wall.

"Peace." Her body relaxed at the sound of Cesare's voice.

Her eyes narrowed as she forcefully struck the candle alight. "I wish you would not do that."

His arms were around her, holding her in his possession before the minute was over. "I have missed you."

She turned with a grin. "And I you."

He kissed her lightly on the mouth before turning towards the bed. It was crumpled and Amara realised with a flush of both embarrassment and annoyance that it had been Cesare who sent her maids away. "Come to bed. I want to hold you while I sleep."

She obeyed his wish after removing her clothes from that day and leaving them on the floor. "It is so hard to sleep while you are away." She admitted, digging her face into his shoulder and breathing deeply.

"I hear your father's sculptor has come to stay in Rome."

"Yes." She smiled remembering her close friend's return to her side. It was an expression that did not go unnoticed by Cesare.

"You did not mention him in your letters."

Amara knew that his words did not have the innocent meaning they were supposed to. "You think I kept the information from you? I am not the one with secrets."

"You think I have secrets?" His voice sounded insulted but Amara knew the truth.

"Yes."

He pulled her close and whispered with affection. "I have no secrets from you."

"Then tell me how a holy man, like yourself, gets a cut along his back." She gently curved her index finger along the red split. It ran down from his shoulder for five inches, Micheletto had obviously stitched it back together with black thread, and when their skin made contact he winched beneath her. It was the first time she had seen him physically strain under her and power swirled within her.

Cesare gripped her wrist, twisting her arm around to pin it above her head. "You are too observant, Little Medici."

"You're wrong." He released her arm and she snatched it back to be close to her. "I'm not nearly observant enough."

"You wish to know my secret?"

"There are rumours." And there were. Rumours of Cesare travelling like smoke in the night with his band of hungry men thirsty for blood.

He hesitated. Why could she not leave things alone? Why was it she wished to know everything about him? "And you want to know if there is truth to them?"

She didn't let herself think before she answered. If she had thought she would have stopped herself. "Yes."

"I would have vengeance for what the French did to my convent." She expected to feel shocked but her body remained remarkably calm.

"Does your Father know of this?"

"He wishes to give me lessons in vengeance suitable for a Cardinal." He answered remembering the conversation he had with the Pope earlier that day.

"How can you give lessons in such a thing as vengeance?" The idea was preposterous, but she couldn't help thinking there was a time she would have told him vengeance was for God and God alone.

"I am to ride north with him."

This, Amara had not been expecting. She brought herself up in bed and faced him on her knees. "You're leaving again?"

"I have to, my love." He tried to reassure her it would only be for a little while, running a thumb over her cheek.

"You only just returned to me." She argued. The bedsheets suddenly felt confiding and she threw them back with great force.

"What upsets you?" He reached for her again but she moved from his grasp.

The conversation she had with Michael a few days before entered her mind and she could not stop her lips from speaking "I want to help the Jews."

"What?" This Cesare had not been expecting.

"The Jews." She spoke plainly. The words were out now; there was no turning back."The ones who have been exiled from Spain."

"Amara – "

She interrupted before he could reject her completely. "Do you know that there are 170,000 of them?"

"This is a complicated issue."

She hated him a little in that moment. He was talking as if she were a child, as if she didn't understand that the Borgias were Spanish. "I know that."

"Spain is our ally." Cesare reminded her.

"There would be no conflict with Spain."Amara sighed. She was not of Spain and it would be her taking to the streets.

"If we gave our charity to the Jews it will be seen as opposition towards Spain's Inquisition."

"Your father has already allowed 300 Jews into Rome." She pointed out desperately.

"Isabella knows that isn't charity." It wasn't. The Pope had gained significant funds for the papacy for his scheme with the Jews. They were allowed in as long as they paid to be allowed in. However, they lived in squalor and their lives were not ones to be proud of.

"My charity will have no impact on Vatican politics." She was begging now. Hoping that he would turn his opinion around.

"Amara, everything you do is a reflection on me and everything I do is seen as my Father's will." His words struck her deeply. He was in control of everything she did, that was how the world saw her. She was no longer her own person but the property of a Borgia… And was the property of a Borgia not simply a Borgia?

"Your Father is the Pope and he's scared." She hissed at him knowing the words would sting. It seemed to her that the Pope was controlled by Spain and he had little influence over Florence. What was the point of her being in Rome if no one would help her?

"My father has issues without you creating more. I have enough with your constant talk of Savonarola and Florence." There was no love in his eyes at that moment. He stood, towering over her small frame. That was how he truly felt then? She was a thorn in his family's side. She created problems they had no need to solve.

Amara twisted herself away from him and he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. "Don't touch me." She ordered yanking the limb from his grasp and without taking a second to think of her actions she fled the room leaving Cesare behind in his storm.

* * *

It was the worst night Amara had encountered in Rome, possibly her life. Even in the beginning she had tossed and turned before surrendering to the dark abyss, but last night she couldn't sleep for more than an hour.

When she returned to her chambers she had expected Cesare to be waiting for her and her intellect had been preparing itself for a battle. Yet, he was no where to be seen. Even her maids were surprised to find her alone and they made extra effort to her that morning, placing lavender in her hair and giving her a selection of dresses to choose from.

Eventually they had to leave. Amara was glad of the silence in a way, but the loneliness was excruciating. In the end, the call to her brother was unavoidable. She reached into her desk and stared at the letter Michelangelo had left from her twin. They had been so close once. Now, she did not know if she would recognise him.

"Cesare left with my father is this morning." Amara slammed the drawer shut quickly as the voice startled her.

"I know." He had left that morning, along with his father, and Amara had watched from the upper balcony until their carriage drifted out of sight. She wanted to call the carriage back as it disappeared. She wanted to run into Cesare's arms and tell him how much she never wanted him to leave her again. She needed to tell him she was sorry for being angry at him for things beyond his control.

"I did not see you in the courtyard."

"I didn't attend the farewell." She reached the bed and dropped down onto it using a finger to grace the back of her cat's soft long fur.

"Did something happen?" Lucrezia's innocent nature did not fool Amara. She knew that Cesare had told her of their fight even if she had not been informed of the details.

"Hmm?" She raised her fingers high above her furry companion's noise. She swiped for them lazily, her body still drunk with sleep.

Lucrezia wasn't given up easily and Amara cursed her silently for her stubbornness. "Between yourself and Cesare?"

"No." She finally decided her tactic and lied firmly.

She sighed after realising that her closest friend was not in the mood to talk about her fall out with her brother. "Cesare informed me that you were in want of a charity."

"I am." Amara agreed sceptically.

Lucrezia smiled brightly, thankful that she was beginning to break through her friend's wall. "There are children in need of an orphanage."

"Do they not have nunneries for such things?" Amara inquired.

"Once they did, but the Cardinals now starve them of such funds." The way Lucrezia spoke of the Cardinals made Amara doubt their goodness. While she knew that the Cardinals were not wholesome in all their acts the poison in Lucrezia's tone made her question how far that goodness went.

"You intend to take money from Cardinals?" The idea was senseless, even Lucrezia had to admit that.

"No." She tittered. "I intend to make them give it up willingly."

"How?"

"We intend to restore running water to the streets of Rome."

"We?"

"Myself, my mother, and Giulia."

Amara snorted. The memory of the Cesare's mother cursing Giulia entered her mind. It was unlikely the two could work together without a scandal occurring, but then what was a scandal in Rome? "Your mother and Giulia?"

"Yes." The humour was not lost on Lucrezia. However, the two lovers of the Pope had managed to be civil that afternoon. "You see this is why you must say yes and help me, it is far too awkward for the three of us to be alone together."

She clutched her friend's hand and hauled her back onto the bed to lounge with her. "I suppose it would be fun to outwit a Cardinal or two."

* * *

It took Cesare three days to surrender to the guilt he felt.

Amara's first clue to this remorse was the sweet smell that had entered the Vatican apartments. When she pushed open the door to her chamber it revealed itself. The room had been filled with flowers of every kind: roses, lilies, peonies and more that she could not name. Her face broke out to a smile and then she laughed.

She made her way towards the desk where a yellow envelope with her name on was settled against a golden dish of dates.

 _Little Medici,_

 _Forgive my foolishness._

 _Forever yours,_

 _C_

Despite herself, she was pleased to hear from him and smiled. Her pride swelled inside of her at the thought of Cesare giving in to her and apologising first. However, that was nothing compared the swell of her heart at the thought of Cesare renewing his vow and declaring himself hers.

Amara reached over to take a date from the platter which lay in the middle of the flowers. They clumped together and she had to pull the sticky fruit apart with her fingers. Since D'jem had introduced her to them they had been Amara's favourite.

The familiar sweet taste overcame her. She leaned over and inhaled the rose scent before comparing it to a lily. He must have gathered every florist in Rome to create his apology. Amara brought the letter to her face next. It smelt like him, she hadn't realised how much she had missed his presence until there was a reminder of it near him.

Amara walked towards her bedside but as she stepped her body lost balance and she swayed. Her throat was hoarse, she needed to drink. Her body convulsed over and over as her body coughed. She tried to call for her maid, yet when she tried to speak another round of coughing took place. Amara removed her hand and stared down revealing a splatter of blood on her trembling hand.

Blood.

That was the last thing Amara de' Medici saw before crumpling to the floor.

* * *

Hello!

Sorry about the layout of this chapter but my laptop is broken so I've got to do this chapter on my iPad instead which is really hard.

So questions:

1) What was your favourite/least favourite part?

2) what do you want to happen?

3) What do you think will happen?

4) What happened to Amara?

I love you all for reading. Please review I love reading them they're always amazing and if you have any questions I will do my best to answer them.

Anna x


	5. The Choice

**THE CHOICE**

 **1497**

 **MAY**

Rome had scattered in broken rumours and stolen whispers. They all revolved around one girl: Amara de' Medici.

 _The Borgias have poisoned her._

 _It was her own brother, he said she had dishonoured the family name._

 _She was fucking both brothers. When the Cardinal found out he broke into a jealous rage. You can't have your cake and eat it._

 _She is dead. They have killed her._

Cesare had not heard the rumours simmering out on the streets because he had been too intent on watching their subject reject the toxin that ran through her veins.

On the first day, she convulsed and thick glops of black tar were dismissed from her body. Then, she broke out in a vicious sweat, murmuring to herself again and again while Cesare, unsuccessfully tried to soothe her.

He had not been able to ask Micheletto if she was alive when he first told him the news. The words would not form on his lips, a world without Amara was unthinkable. His servant knew what he wanted to know before his master said it and confirmed that she breathed but they did not know how long it would be that way.

Yet, here she was, only three days later, staring up at him with wide and confused eyes.

"Don't speak, my love." She obeyed him because it hurt her to do otherwise. "Drink." She was dutiful again as he pressed the cool goblet to her lips.

"What happened?" She eventually asked. She could remember a sweet smell and taste on her lips, the letter from Cesare… And then panic and darkness. Oh, how scared she had been.

He remained silent. How could he tell her that she wasn't safe? That someone had managed to attack her, that if she had eaten more of those dates she would be dead?

"Cesare?" She reached a hand out for him to accept. Her head felt like it was swinging from side to side in black smoke. The lights were too bright, they burned into her retinas and soon she had to close her eyes.

"It was the dates." He started, his thumb tracing the same pattern over her white knuckles. "They were laced with poison."

A cold wave of shock ran through Amara. Someone tried to kill me? The words didn't form in her head correctly. It couldn't possibly be true.

"Who?" That seemed the most important question at the time.

"We don't know." The words pained Cesare as much as they had hit Amara, with full force. It was not without effort. He had sent out every guard in the city to search for anything suspicious and to question everyone in the Vatican on that day, but it had all come to nothing.

The news didn't help the pulsing behind her eyes or the vacant throbbing at the back of her head. "You mean they're still out there?"

"You are not dead, Amara." He tried to reassure her, or perhaps he was reassuring himself. Cesare could have lost her. Even now she appeared pale and fearful. "That's all that matters."

"Who was it, Cesare?" She pressed not believing, correctly, that he would have no indication of her attacker.

"We suspect it was Savonarola or one of his followers."

"Why?" Yes, he hated her family, but she was the youngest sibling and had been out of Florence for longer than Savonarola's following had been wondering the streets. Anyway, Savonarola preached God's word and God would not want her dead.

"He has been preaching against the Medici family more," he paused in a hope it would soften the blow. "Your family and we suspect one of his followers decided to take it into their own hands."

"So they're still out there?" She spoke slowly in the hope it would help the words settle in her mind. The person who had attempted to poison her was still very much alive and could return at any moment.

"We've replaced your maids."

"My maids?" The thought of any of her maids wanting her dead was insane. Of course, Amara wasn't thinking properly about anyone's motives if she had been she might have realised that even the man she loved could have his motivation.

"We have to take every precaution." His tone was sure and powerful, it was the one he used when he discussed politics with his father or argued in the Conclave. "Micheletto is going to remain here, with you."

Amara's hand tightened on his, but her grip was weak from the days she had gone without food. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, my love." He ran a finger along her left cheek and leaned his forehead against her own. "But every time I cannot be with you I will leave Micheletto."

She knew the words were meant to soothe, so Amara attempted to hide how much the thought scared her. "Thank you. Will you come to bed?"

"To sleep." He pronounced the word clearly. She could not afford to do anything strenuous after the nights of sickness.

"Yes," she agreed welcoming him into her bed. "To sleep."

And so they stayed. The small Florentine girl, whose city had turned on her to the point of murder and her guardian, who had now sworn to rid the city of such a threat by any means necessary.

* * *

Since her capture Amara had embroidered over thirty prayer cushions and two alter clothes with the help of Lucrezia. Now, Lucrezia was visiting the brothels with her mother and father's mistress and was less helpful as a result. She came though, and told her all about the backstreets of Rome while they lay on the floor, although Amara longed to be in the grass, and gazed up at the sun through the open window.

In spite of her constant visits Amara was now alone and bored without compare.

She looked up at her new protector. He had been silent since he had been given his charge and Amara was tiring of it. "What's your family like Micheletto?"

"They live a simple life." His uninvested answer made mouth fall into a pretty pout.

"And where does your mother think you are?" She pressed.

"At university." She smiled and the humour was not lost on him, although he would never show it.

"What are you studying at this university?"

"I am training to be a medic." Amara openly laughed at this. He was a healer in his mother's eyes and a killer in all of Rome's eyes.

Suddenly, the two were distracted by a disturbance outside the door. There was a loud shriek followed by some scuffling.

She made for the door and stood out in the hall. There were ten guards at least lining the corridor which lead to her chamber. "What is happening out here?" Amara demanded feeling Micheletto close behind her.

"Please go inside, my lady."

"I will not." She retorted. Her blood reached boiling point as she saw Her friend being held back helplessly by two guards. "Michael. Let him through."

"My lady –

"Now!" She commanded forcefully and they reluctantly loosened their grip on the artist.

"And I thought Florence was bad." Michael confided when they were finally safe behind the door.

"Florence was nothing." She waved an arm dismissing the thought. Florence felt like a lifetime ago now. She had never been allowed out into the city unattended, but the Tuscan lands which surrounded her family's villa had been hers for the taking. Rome held no such pleasure. "You are the first unscheduled visitor I've had days." She turned expecting to see his easy smile. Yet, she was greeted by him sheepishly eyeing her protector. "Do not worry yourself about him, Michael. He's harmless really."

"That's what Maddelena used to say about Beatrice" She tittered, tilted her head back slightly and remembered her older sister's small brown eyed dog. She would attack without a second thought regardless of Maddelena insisting on her sweet nature.

"He would never attack without need." She assured taking his hand and leading him to sit beside her. "Sit, Michael."

"Where is your guardian?" He scanned the room as though he expected Cesare to jump out from behind a curtain and slay him.

She took a slip of sweet tea before answering. "On Vatican business."

"I was informed that he never leaves your side."

"Not if he can help it." It was true. Cesare had taken to waking early so he could answer his father's call and return to her before she fully opened her eyes. Cesare said that the business that day was unavoidable. It was the first time she had ever been alone for more than an hour. "I have his shadow though." Micheletto was never far from Amara's sight. He stood against the wall like a sculpture. Perhaps he was to some people. He was always present but she soon forgot he was there. After all, he was always so silent.

"So, he is not traveling to Florence?" He queried once again.

"Not of late." Cesare had informed her that the Pope's theologians were scanning the Friar's sermons for some form of heresy or treason. "Why do you ask?"

"There are rumours of a plague in Florence…" Michael reluctantly informed her. Micheletto took a small, unnoticeable step forwards ready to catch the girl if it were necessary.

Her teacup trembled in her hand and then fell. She didn't understand, the plague had been gone for some time now. "A plague?"

"I am sure they are only rumours, Madonna." He tried to calm her while removing her cup.

Members of her family still lived in Florence, would they be struck down without mercy if God saw it fit. She closed her eyes and tried to work out the probability of their illness. Most of her members now lay in the outlining regions of Florence, they had retreated to their villas in Tuscany.

Machiavelli! Her heart gave out a heavy punch. He still travelled to Florence. It was silly, of course, for Amara to worry about Machiavelli, he knew perfectly well of a plague and was too smart to have that be his downfall.

"Little Medici," Cesare Borgia bounded through the door. He was laughing as he wrested with a small bundle of fur which lay in his arms. "Look who I have found."

"Cesare." She pounced into action, removing her hand from Michael's and crossed the room to greet him. "This is Michelangelo." Michael stood waiting for the correct moment to speak.

"The artist." Cesare's face remained in its clenched position as the cat tried to pry itself free.

"It's a pleasure, your eminence." Amara rescued her small friend, while the other introduced himself, with a smile and placed her onto the floor.

"Come sit with us." She placed a soft hand on Cesare's arm and guided him towards the red velvet chair.

"So, you knew my Amara when she was small?" A small smile graced her lips in a tiny triumph. Cesare had decided not to be angry with Michael. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"She was ten when I started dining at their family table." Michelangelo, who had heard awful rumours of the man who sat before him, was still cautious with his words. Especially after the strong declaration of ownership he had just placed over _his_ Amara.

"And what was she like?" Amara was sure that Cesare had forgotten that she had only been thirteen when arriving at the Vatican, and Michelangelo had hardly known her for three more years.

"Quick witted. She was the only girl who was willing to hold your gaze." Michael stared at his longterm friend with the same amused, and bemused, look he had when she first quipped him. He had expected her to be different when he came to Rome. However, that sort of light was hard to dim. Cesare, seeing this look and mistaking it entirely, placed his hand upon Amara's knee.

"I don't think that's true." Amara argued thinking of her eldest sister. "Lucrezia would banish you."

"Lucrezia did not scare me." He dismissed the idea but Amara did not know one man who was not both scared and infatuated by her.

"Your sister, Lucrezia?" Cesare questioned, his fingers running in circles over the red fabric she wore. He was glad of the colour: Borgia red. "She remains in Florence, correct?"

Amara's marrow froze to the core. She had forgotten in her fear for Machiavelli that her sister was also in fear for her life if the plague entered Florence. "Her husband has sided with the friar."

"She will not be making his life easy." Michael, who had noticed the blood drain from Amara's face, attempted to calm her from any fear she may have had for her sister.

"Your sister is quite the character?" Cesare enquired.

"She was always my father's favourite…" The wistful tone that came from Amara caused the Cardinal to turn and look at her. It was as though she had seen a ghost.

Cesare soon announced. "I think Amara is feeling tired from visitors."

"Yes." Michael agreed. He glanced back at Amara, whose gaze was firmly fixed upon her lap, as Cesare led him out the room.

Cesare knelt before her and clasped her shoulders. "What's happened?"

"Nothing." She tried to dismiss his fears.

"Tell me." He commanded.

She struggled to find words that would help her voice the fear in her stomach. Eventually, she blurted, "Could I call my sister from Florence?"

"Why?" His dark eyes hooked onto her bloodshot red ones.

"There is a plague." The words still didn't seem real as she said them.

"There have been reports." He started slowly, carefully. "Your sister will be far from the city centre."

"You will not go to Florence." She commanded fiercely. There was a time when Amara would have plunged Cesare into the city at any moment, plague or no plague. However, the thought of Cesare suffering was too much to bear. No, he would not be harmed, she would rather Florence burned. "Promise me you will not go."

"If my father demands it I must go." Cesare would always put his father's wishes first and Amara resented it. He desired more than anything in the world to win his father's approval, more than he wanted to live.

"Promise me, Cesare." Her eyes were full of fire and fury. She would not lose him, the thought was too much to bear. "I swear I will hold you captive if you do not. Promise me!"

"I promise." He swore kissing the hot tears from her wet cheeks. "I promise."

* * *

 **1496**

 **JUNE**

Cesare was unable to deny his father any longer when the month of June came and he was sent with haste to capture the Tigress of Forli. So Amara was left alone with Micheletto once again, but this time with no hope of respite. Her bed was cold and she found that sleeping alone made her nightmares much worse than when she rested knowing he was beside her.

"I've come to rescue you." Lucrezia announced one morning, bursting into Amara's rooms.

She placed her copy of Dante down beside her and looked up at the smile blonde. "Where's your army?"

"It won't be that hard." She tittered carelessly.

"Cesare has placed every solider in Rome around my quarters." Amara replied wondering if she had missed them on her way in.

"Oh!" Lucrezia feigned shock. "Is that who they are?"

"Which is your favourite?" Amara asked with a smirk.

Lucrezia answered at once. "The one with the golden hair."

"And blue eyes?" She cross-examined knowing exactly who Lucrezia was referring to.

The two burst out into a fit of laughter. Until Lucrezia finally said with a wink, "You should bring him with you?"

"Where?" Amara was skeptical of her best friend, but the idea of the outdoors was more a dream she know had.

"Around Rome, of course."

"Cesare will only let me leave my rooms for mass." She said knowing full well that Lucrezia was already informed of this. Cesare had been very strict with his sister before he left. Yet, he should have known his sister did not fair well when being dictated.

"He'll forgive us."

"Come, Micheletto, we are going to give alms to the poor." Amara commanded.

Lucrezia smiled in triumph for she had won. Amara took her friend's arm and held it tightly as they faced the guards outside. They stood down from their positions and let her past with a single nod from Micheletto. It seemed that an assassin of no noble birth had more power in both the Vatican and of Amara herself, than she did.

There were many who did not enjoy the fortune lifestyle of the Vatican in the holy city. Amara feared mostly for the children. They would scramble over each other for scraps that the butchers and bakers threw to them, as though they were no more than dogs or alley rats.

"God bless you." They praised when Amara or Lucrezia placed the glittering coin into their hands. It was enough to feed their family for a week or more. They were so thankful to the nobles, but Amara couldn't help thinking that the very dress dress she wore at that moment, given to her by Cesare, cost more than triple.

More than that Amara felt like a women given a prophecy of death. Every sound made her jump, every noise made her turn in fear. When the riot started, as these acts of charity often erupted violence, Amara was certain it was another assassin waiting in the shadows to kill her.

She had grabbed Lucrezia's wrist tightly and she returned her friend's frenzied gaze with one of confusion. This was not an unusual experience for the girls who knew exactly where to go now they were being shuffled back inside the Vatican, hand in hand.

"It is exhausting, Micheletto." She slumped down onto her velvet seat. Venturing out into the city had been tiring. She was on guard the whole time never knowing what danger could be lurking in the shadows. "The thought that everyone wants you dead."

"I have lived my whole life with that fear, my lady." He was soft spoken, as always, but at least we was speaking.

Her stomach plummeted and flipped at the thought of living this way forever. "So it never goes away?"

"No, my lady."

His confirmation was too much. To Amara's complete humiliation her body wretched forwards in a surge of sobs. Her head flopped into her hands and she weeped. She was exhausted from nightmares of Savonarola and the idea that they would kill her was terrifying.

"I am sorry, Micheletto." She apologised through her embarrassment returning to her ladylike position.

"There is no reason to apologise, my lady."

"I have tried to pretend," Amara assured him. She did not want him thinking that she was weak. Not when she was so sure that he had never cried, even as a babe. "And I have failed."

"You are safe." He pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her at an arms length. She studied it with surprise. It was stained and Amara supposed that he had never given it to another human being before.

"Thank you, Micheletto." She said about both the handkerchief and his promise of safety.

Micheletto had never seen another human relax in his presence. He watched as his master's mistress calmed herself, taking deep breaths until her panic passed.

Of course, the Vatican never truly allowed a person to rest. As soon as her hysteria had passed there was a quick knock followed by the door opening.

Amara lunged into a standing position. Her manservant placed his hand onto the dagger he kept hidden under his lapel, but he relaxed when he saw who the visitor was. Amara wished she could have felt the same but standing before her was the Vicar of Jesus Christ.

* * *

The Pope of Rome walked ahead of her. He was silent because he chose to be, Amara knew this and she knew it was a game but that did not make her any less scared. Cardinal Sforza smiled at her reassuringly though. He was always trying to make people feel at ease. Amara assumed he was making up for his poisonous family. Even then, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Amara took deep breathes and tried to clam herself as she observed the Christ Vicar's guards. Her own guard stood close to her, closer than he would have liked to be. She knew this was to reassure her and she fought the urge to take his hand.

She had never been to her family's palazzo in Rome so she did not recognise the tall, grand building before her. In fact, she did not know where they were until she saw the Medici coat of arms above the door.

She was still in shock when Machiavelli answered the oak double doors. "Your Holiness."

"Signor Machiavelli." The Pope stepped in the house without and invitation. She watched as Machiavelli gave a rigid bow in amazement. Her family had left Tuscany, not just Florence but Tuscany.

"Lady Medici." It was one of those rare occasions when she saw shock run across the philosopher's face.

"Machiavelli." She fought the urge to hug him. This felt like a firing squad to poor Amara who turned to reassure herself that Micheletto was still present to protect her if necessary.

"If we had been graced with the knowledge of your arrival we would have done justice for your presence." Machiavelli made an excuse slowly.

"We cannot always travel in public splendour." The Pope explained. Meanwhile, everyone in the room knew that he travelled the way he did to give no warning of his arrival. "The Pope must learn the problems of his subjects."

"And your humble subject, Piero de' Medici, awaits." Machiavelli could hold the crowd back no longer. He just hoped that he had given his employer enough time.

"Ah, good."

They followed Machiavelli along the corridors until they reached what she supposed was her brother's study. She couldn't help but remember that this study had once been her father's study. She imagined him sitting behind the large desk or walking over the balcony and observing the daily activities of the Romans.

"Your Holiness." Her brother looked flustered. He was older than she remembered, but time and politics did that to a person.

"I have brought you your sister, Signor Medici." Amara leaned forward towards her brother and Machiavelli. She wanted to be with them, to feel like she truly belonged in a way she had not since coming to Rome four years ago. Still, when her foot went forwards she saw Machiavelli slowly shake his head. It was small and she was certain everyone else in the room had missed it.

"I have missed her." Piero said with a tone that would pass as heartfelt. He had missed her, somedays he even missed her complaining to him and he almost always regretted sending her away.

"She would be missed at court." The Pope cut Amara's open mouth off. She realised very quickly that the Holy Father had no intention of letting her speak during this meeting. If she wasn't present to speak then she was present to be present. It slowly dawned on Amara that the Pope was showing how he had sold his sister away and that she was now his to do with as he pleased. "Especially by my children. She is happy you have come to Rome. How was Florence when you left?"

"We lived in a fortress there." Her brother answered the Pope. "Their fervour for the Friar's sermons increases daily. They would ban all art and ornament."

"Oh, my!" The Pope's shocked tone was full of something else. He was not interested in her brother, not in the slightest. So why had he come here to talk with him? "Dear God…"

"They see gold and coin as part of the fallen world. They would reduce all barter to one only possible in the Garden of Eden."

"Hmmm." Il Papa tilted his head as he studied the statue before him. It was one of Botticelli's. "And what of banking?"

"Well," She watched her brother fold himself over into an arch. It was the pose that an actor would take when performing the role of an old man. "Did Adam need gold coin? Did Eve need a bank? Did Cain charge interest to Able?" The three Medici nobles laughed. Piero wholeheartedly, Machiavelli supportively, and Amara awkwardly.

"And what of the churches deposits in your bank?" She swallowed at the Pope's sentence.

"They would scatter them like chaff." She almost choked at Piero's choice of words. It would not reassure His Holiness that his accounts were in safe Medici hands. "And if they knew, Holy Father, of your personal accounts they would burn the bank to the ground."

"Well then, perhaps We better have Our wealth brought back to Rome?" She looked at Machiavelli. He seemed remarkably calm and Amara couldn't comprehend why he was not panicking. If the Medici's lost those funds they would have no bank at all.

"How?" Piero found the idea preposterous. "The Friar has his spies everywhere."

"Perhaps the good Friar could be bought?" Amara gripped her hand into a tiny ball. The Pope was going to buy the Friar? Reward him! After all he had done in her fair Florence and to her family he was going to be rewarded!

"The Dominican Order already does his bidding."

"You offer him something money cannot buy: Heaven itself."

* * *

It was her first debut since returning from the dead. The Pope had personally invited her to evensong that Sunday night and she silently cursed Cesare for not being here to support her.

She could hear the ladies of Rome bustling. Their gossip was circling inside St Peter's high, ornate walls and Amara's stomach clenched at the thought of her being the main subject.

She spun around on her left foot and faced Micheletto. "Will you come in with me?"

"It is a holy place, my lady. I cannot." With a shake of his head Amara felt herself fall with distress and disappointment.

"I have seen you attend with Cesare." She argued certain that he would not abandon her without a fight. It wasn't quite true. Micheletto only ever came into church when Cesare demanded it and he never stayed for the service. "Please, Micheletto."

Micheletto observed the girl before him as she pleaded, her eyes desperate. He reluctantly held his arm out for her to take with a sigh. His movements made a large smile spread across her face and the fear of Roman ladies left her mind in peace as she wrapped her own around it.

"Thank you." She breathed in relief. He decided then that it was no longer just his master's orders that commanded him to protect this girl, such was the look upon her face.

They stared. She knew they would. Her Master's dog was escorting her into a holy place after all, but still, their stares burned into her. Amara wanted to close her eyes and vanish. She could always hear them whispering how she didn't belong; how she was a whore and nothing else.

The worst part of it all was that it was true. She was a whore. A dirty, filthy whore who succumbed to the powers of the flesh because she loved a man who could never be hers fully.

Still, Micheletto was there. He would never leave her she was sure of that at least. He guided her to her pew as Virgil led Dante through Hell.

The sweet, high choral music began to fill the air. Amara could almost feel it raising her up and she willed it to take her higher and higher. She imagined herself staring down at the scene which played out here. She imagined seeing Lucrezia tending to Giovanni, and her brother looking at papers. So high above it all. When she imagined it like that, small, manageable, she saw the world as God saw it.

A flash of silver broke her beautiful dream. It had rained for three days straight, as it often did in June. The weather was still hot and the humidity caused her clothes to stick to her. The Pope turned to face his crowd. He lifted the holy cup, full of Christ's blood, above his head and prayed loudly over it.

If this were a bull fight, Amara thought, we would all be cheering by now. Screaming for blood.

God, it seemed, was also baying for blood. He took his mighty thunderbolt and with a wrath only He could be capable of, shot St. Peter's.

The plaster began to fall before the screaming commenced. Micheletto, who knew what to do at all times, even when Amara was frozen into place, seized his protection by the waist. Then, all hell broke lose inside the Vatican.

People ran. They screamed and prayed for forgiveness of sins.

Micheletto firmly gripped Amara incase she should fall, but to his surprise her legs remained grounded. He drove her through the commotion as a second round of rumble began to fall. She could hear people howling, but Micheletto told her firmly never to look back.

In the future, Amara would contemplate how it was she managed to live with herself. She left those people as they shrieked and feared for their lives. She wondered if helping them would have changed anything… would they have lived if she had helped? She always told herself the same answer.

Survival was all that mattered. Survival had no price.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hello!**

 **I think this is the fastest update I have ever done ever! I was going to wait another week to upload but I figured that you guys have waited for months before so I owe you one. Big time.**

 **Also it's Cesare's birthday today so I figured I owed him one too.**

 **I hope you enjoyed it and please, please talk to me it makes me update faster and I want to update every two weeks from now on.**

 **Okay, questions:**

 **1) As always what was your favourite/least favourite part?**

 **2)What do you think is going to happen now that Amara's family is back in Florence?**

 **3)What do you think of Micheletto and Amara's relationship? It's needed for a big part of the rest of the story.**

 **4) What do you want to happen? I love hearing your theories and wishes**

 **Thanks for reading and following it all**

 **Anna x**


	6. Day of Ashes

**Day of Ashes**

 **JULY**

 **1497**

She was a vision.

She wore a white nightgown, thicker than her usual sleeping attire. Her hair fell in waves down her back and they bounced in repetitive patterns as she slowly climbed the stairs towards his holiness.

The people of Rome watched in awe as she knelt before the pope in silence, her eyes shut so she could bask in the glow of her rebirth.

Alexander VI poured the holy water over her head.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice...

Her nude face leant back, letting the droplets cascade down her neck and send shivers through her as they dribbled along her spine.

She stood slowly when it was over, turned to face the people of Rome. Her eyes snapped open and Amara de' Medici was reborn.

* * *

Cesare stood, watching her. Her breath was short and shallow as she rolled over from one side to the other. She reached out to find something that wasn't there, something that hadn't been there for over a week now. Cesare slowly lowered himself onto the bed and smiled when she moved towards him instinctively. She gasped as his thumb grazed her mouth and it slipped inside the wet folds. Then, Amara bit down — hard. Cesare pierced his lips together to stop her from seeing his grimace, but it was not successful. She smiled then, a beautiful, full smile and released him.

He leant forwards to catch that beautiful mouth in his, but she stopped him. "How long have you been in Rome?"

"A few hours." He tried again.

She repeated and stopped him once more. "Have you met with your father?"

"Yes." The words of the Pope still stung him. She would assume that he had met with his father for the whole time and not returned to his chambers to wash Giovanni Sforza's blood from him. "I have a gift for you." Cesare dangled his present before her with a grin, but it faltered when she didn't reach out to clasp it. "Don't you like it?"

"Yes, of course." There was no need to lie. It was perfect, everything about it. "It's beautiful."

It was a striking gift, worth more than Amara could think to imagine. The necklace, with its row of diamonds and the lone sapphire which hung from them, was sure to get the Roman tongues waggling. She could already hear the commoners in the marketplace exaggerating the grandeur of his gift. "But…how was the Tigress?" Politics were more important right now. It had meant so much before he left no matter how much he was pretending it did not. "Is she as fierce as they say?"

"I don't wish to speak of my visit."

"But did you tame her?" Amara pressed. If he had not managed to do as his father wished there would be another war, she was sure of it.

"She has not come to Rome." He did not say his failure aloud, even to Amara. "And I would much rather examine you, Little Medici?"

"Really?" She feigned innocence accepting that he did not wish to talk about the Tigress anymore. "How so?"

"I would know what dress looked best with my gift." "But in order to do that, I must see it against nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes." He pulled on her nightdress until she let him slip it over her head. "Nothing. Turn." He ordered rotating his finger slowly.

She followed his instructions going one way and then the other. Her nipples began to harden in their naked state against the cold air. They stared at one another for a second before she slowly walked towards his form perched on the end of the bed. Amara untied his breeches and slipped herself onto his erect manhood.

"Fuck." He groaned thrusting himself into her — hard.

She was desperate for him. Her hands moved to his hair as she moved herself closer to him. "I missed you."

They did not last long after that. The weeks apart had almost driven Amara to madness and Cesare had forgotten what it was like to be with someone who cared for him so. In the end, he spilled into her uttering how much he loved her into her soft neck. 

* * *

"My father is putting me back in the marketplace." Lucrezia cried with disgust. "I'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

Amara wiped the sleep from her eyes. "What's the hour?"

"Six."

Amara was about to enquire if she had slept through the day but then, to her horror, she realised what her words truly meant. "In the morning?"

"Yes." She gazed out of her window. Was the sun even awake at such an unearthly hour? "Amara, can you hear me?"

She turned back towards her friend who wore an expression of distress and anger. "You have been in the marketplace for two years now." The Pope had always dangled his daughter in front of noblemen for their good favour towards him. This was no different. "He will never sell you."

"He has changed his mind."

"Who could he possibly sell you to?" She tried to think of an alliance that was needed and came up blank. However, if she had paid attention she would be aware that there was always a need in this Rome of theirs. "There is no need."

"It does not matter. It is my father's wish."

Amara, who had not had a father for years and therefore could not remember what it was like to disobey their wishes, foolishly said: "Can you not tell him to un-wish it?"

"It does not matter what he wishes," Lucrezia assured her firmly. "I will not marry."

"Lucrezia, get into bed. Your pacing is giving me a headache." Lucrezia obeyed her friend and crawled into the warm confines. "Now, surely Cesare is against this."

"He is, but there is little he can say because of the Forli matter."

Amara almost sighed in relief. If that was all this was then they had little to worry about, this was simply the Pope's way of expressing his anger at Cesare's lack of success. "The Pope knows that Cesare will eventually bring Caterina to heel."

"Not after killing her cousin." Lucrezia breathed, dropping her head onto her friend's lap.

Amara's hand steadied in Lucrezia's golden curls. "What?"

"Giovanni Sforza." She bucked her head to make the stroking start. "God, that vile man ruins everything!"

"Cesare killed Giovanni?" She needed clarification. Surely she had mistaken her friend's words.

"Yes," Lucrezia confirmed with a confused but beautiful squint. "He has not told you?"

"How?"

"He stabbed him." The two girls watched each other for a moment. The Borgia waiting for the Medici's reaction to the news. Lucrezia had expected her to cry, but what she did not expect was her friend's sudden departure from the room. "Amara!" She called in the hope it would stop her friend yet she knew it was too late.

Amara de' Medici had already succumbed to the storm inside her. 

"Get out!" Amara screeched as she entered Cesare's chambers. The guards had fled without her saying a single word when they saw the thunder set on her face but the servants inside were torn between their master and the angry girl.

"You heard my lady." Cesare did not remove his eyes from Amara as he prepared himself for whatever information she had uncovered about his trip. There was so much for her to be angry about. "Out!"

It was only when the door was safely shut and the room empty Amara unleashed herself on him. "You stabbed Giovanni Sforza." She accompanied the accusation with a firm push on his chest. When he did not stumble Amara found herself even more infuriated.

"It was unplanned." He almost sighed with relief that she had not found out about the tigress but when he realised it would not have helped his case with the girl, he stayed his tongue.

"So, he ran into your knife?"

"Not exactly."

"Then perhaps he fell onto it?"

"He defiled my sister and defiled the name of Borgia."

"And now your sister is going to be defiled again. By God knows who and against her will from the start!" There would be no false hope of happiness for Lucrezia at her next wedding. She would know that she was surrendering herself to her husband like a piece of meat.

"He had no punishment!"

"We had already humiliated him." She remembered standing to declare the Sforza's impotence to the whole of Rome because her word was seen as truth. Then she had seen Lucrezia's swelling stomach and realised that she was a clever trick by the house of Borgia - their favourite pawn. "If I remember correctly that was at my expense."

"It was a matter of honour!"

"You and your honour!" She exploded. It was not for her honour but the house of Borgia's. He did not care that this set them back politically and she was one more step away from gaining the one thing she truly wanted. Cesare Borgia as her husband. "Your honour is going to start a war."

"I have already had this from my father."

The desperation in his voice softened her. She did not take a step closer to him, but she knew that he would be punishing himself with the knowledge that he had disgraced his father. "What did he say?"

"I am the reason Lucrezia must marry."

"To form an alliance."

"Yes," He walked towards her grasping her hands in his, "to protect us."

"She does not cast blame on you, Cesare." He smiled at his little Medici and her ability to forgive so easily.

"My father does. He believes that Giovanni's…" He didn't want to say 'murder' in case it triggered her unhappiness again. "Accident has caused some upsets in the North."

"He would have married her sooner or later." She attempted to remove blame from him.

"I would have preferred later."

Amara reached up to stroke his cheek with her thumb. "So would I." 

**AUGUST**

Amara squinted at her needlework with scrutiny. It wasn't right, the golden threads did not behave in the way she wanted them too. So much was changing in the past through days that it had ruined her ability to concentrate on anything. She threw it down with frustration. The nunnery would have to go without.

"You have not come to visit yet." Amara wheeled round from the open window. She opened her mouth to gasp but was unable to do so from the shock. Her twin was leaning against her door frame with a lazy smile. "Giovanni is not easily disappointed. However, I must confess I am quite upset."

"I am so sorry, Giuliano." She said thinking of the letter Michelangelo had given her when he first arrived in Rome. It still sat, unopened, in her desk drawer. "I should have written to you, but I… I couldn't bear for you to think badly of me."

"For what?" He stepped inside her room without invitation and closed the door firmly behind him. "For the rumours of yourself and the Cardinal?"

"They are not rumours." She admitted through the pain it caused her to do so. He would think she betrayed her mother for she had.

"Amara, if I informed you of my deviances you would die from shock." He whispered with the same glint in his eyes he had always had.

A beam of joy spread over her face before she flung herself into his arms. "I have missed you so."

He drew back, his head resting upon her own. "And I love you so."

"What is this?" Amara took a physical step back as she noticed Cesare with his sword already in hand. Her brother did the same pushing her behind him.

Amara pushed Giuliano aside and stepped between the two. "This is Giuliano, my brother." She spoke clearly as if to clarify any confusion which could have been taken from his eavesdropping.

"Your twin?" Her hand remained pressed to his chest as he processed the words. When he had done so he put his weapon away.

"Yes." It shocked her to hear Guiliano answer. Although they had been talking about him she had almost forgotten he was in the room. "And you are?" He asked, putting his sword back in its place and knowing the answer already.

"Cesare Borgia." Poor Cesare was not used to introducing himself. Being the son of the Pope came with the advantage that everyone knew exactly who you were.

"Ah, then I have you to thank for caring for my sister so." Giuliano wrapped his arm around his sister's waist pulling her close. "She really is the most perfect creation, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would be inclined to." Cesare's eyes were glued to Giuliano's on his Amara's waist.

"If any harm were to befall her," he laughed harmlessly but the threat was there all the same. "I do not think I could be held accountable for my actions – I would be a man possessed."

"I agree wholeheartedly."

"I must leave," Giuliano announced abruptly. He was never one to outstay his welcome and he imagined that the time had come. Taking Amara's hand he pressed it to his lips and said, "Sister, come and dine with us tonight."

"She cannot tonight," Cesare answered for her and it did not go unnoticed by the youngest Medici son.

"Fine, but come soon." He did not address the Borgia.

"Of course." She answered not wanting to let go of his hand. He had to remove it in the end and left without another word.

"He should never have been allowed in."

"My brother would not harm me, Cesare." The edge in her voice was not unnoticed by her guardian. She would be controlled in this situation and that irritated him.

"Your brothers are desperate."

"They would never harm me." She repeated with the same calmness.

He crossed the room and shut the window she had opened only moments ago. "And I would never let them."

"Can they see me?" She demanded to know. "Or is to see me to harm me?"

"We will dine with them in time." He attempted to deflect the conversation. He did not have time for another argument when he had already been doing so with his father.

"When?"

"Next week." Cesare waved the thought away like a wasp.

"And can I see them alone?"

"Alone?"

"Yes."

It was Cesare's turn to carry a knife's edge in his voice. "Why would you need to, Little Medici?"

"Why do you see Lucrezia alone?"

"I do not want you being harmed." He repeated slowly and for what Amara thought was the final time.

"To bar me from my brothers is to harm me." She began to dismiss herself from the room. Cesare went to grab her but she pushed his hand away and kept going. 

* * *

"Signore Machiavelli, welcome to Rome." Cesare shuffled the papers on his desk, hiding them from the sight of Italy's most notorious agent.

"I appreciate the informality of your welcome." He was pleased to be moving on from Florence and to remove himself from the flourishing world.

"What is the news from Florence?"

"Ah, officially, I am here to open the shutters of the Villa Medici for my master, Piero de Medici. Stones have been thrown at his house in Florence. Large stones. He believes he will be safer here in Rome."

"Not without our protection." Cesare reminded him although he did not need informing.

"The Medici have made many enemies; that cannot be contested." Machiavelli agreed. They were mostly enemies in the north and there was always Naples. While Lorenzo the Magnificent had been alive he had nullified them, but now the Medici power was shrinking once again.

"What does he intend for his sister now he is living in the same city as her?" Cesare enquired.

"I am sure he would enjoy her company."

"He will not have it." He snarled, his hands gripped into tight fists. "I am her guardian now. He gave up that right."

"He is in no position to argue otherwise." Machiavelli understood that the best position for Amara's future was safely in Rome.

Cesare quickly diverted the conversation back to its original means. "What of the Medici bank? Is it a sinking ship?"

"Oh, I am not a banker, but it may have already sunk." With these words, Machiavelli had officially betrayed the house of Medici.

"You may not be a banker but you are the Medicis' ambassador; you know these things."

"True, I have been privy to sensitive negotiations."

"Signore de Medici values my opinion- especially as he does not have one of his own- but I am really nothing more than a nuncio, a messenger boy." Piero would easily be led into dangerous alliances and stupid decisions if they were suggested by his advisor.

"And what message does the boy bring? What of the Vatican funds?" He needed them. They were the key to making his father proud of him once again.

"Every penny could be lost. That is the sour truth of it."

"Where has the money gone?"

"That is the golden question." He quipped.

"You are not alone in wanting an answer."

"There are funds, but the question is, where might they be?"

"Do you know?" Cesare pressed wanting the money now.

"I am told that what remains is on the move. Some here, some there." He tried to hide his frustration with the advisor reminding himself of his importance.

"Though not on its way to whom it belongs."

"Where?" Cesare pushed. If he would only say there would be men dispatched within the hour.

"That I do not know."

"Not yet."

"Until such time, it is as I told you: I am here to open the shutters at the Villa Medici."

"Signore Machiavelli, a more specific insight into this matter would be much appreciated."

"Does your Lady Amara know about this?" Machiavelli pushed his new master's limits.

"No, and I would keep it that way." He did not need Amara knowing that he was plotting the downfall of her brother and in short her family. She did not need them now anyway, she had him.

"Cesare, I've just finished looking at suitors with Lucrezia you should see them!" She laughed going up to kiss his cheek only stopping when he did not embrace her like normal. "What is it?" She followed his eyes until they met Machiavelli.

"Lady Medici."

"Machiavelli." She eyed her most trusted advisor trying to read his face and failing. "What have you two been discussing?"

Cesare was quick to answer. "Savonarola."

"What of him?"

"I am going to travel to Florence and we will be rid of that mad Friar once and for all." He enclosed his arms around her while Machiavelli slipped out of the room happy in the knowledge he had abandoned the sinking Medici ship. 

* * *

The door slammed open and Amara reached for something to protect herself with but settled when she saw her brother, Guiliano, panting. "Piero is going to meet the Pope."

"When?"

"Now!"

"A private audience." When her brother did not answer she felt the blood drain from her. "Public?"

"He thinks he can win the Pope's favour." Guiliano's tone assured her that their brother had no chance of doing so.

"The Pope hates him. Why would Machiavelli allow him to do this?"

"I don't know, but I need your help."

She wished that there had been more warning. She would have presented herself with more decorum and worn blue instead of the Borgia red she was currently sporting. The Medici twins ran through the quiet Vatican. Seeing that the corridors were empty made her panic more, it meant that everyone was attending the meeting.

At the rounding of the corridor, she grabbed her brother's arm to halt him. They could not be seen panicking. Amara rearranged her hair the way her mother would once do and calmly walked towards the Papal throne room.

"Ah, your little sister has arrived." The crowd parted for her willingly. At least she still had some respect even if it came from fear or a hope of her failure and humiliation. She walked calmly towards the Pope and kissed the ring which was presented to her. His eyes were unsettlingly pleased with her willingness to kneel before him. "Tell me, Amara de' Medici, where do you think the funds of our Vatican are deposited?"

She stood beside Piero with confidence even if the other Florentines reacted to him like he had leprosy. "They are quite safe, your Holiness, I am sure."

"Or perhaps they have gone up in flames?"

"Those funds are in safe hands, Holy Father." "They are on the move to secure locations."

"We thank you for your assurance. And we will keep your deposit safe here." Amara tried to keep her face still at the Pope's words and the crowd's reaction to them. She was material to her family, the Pope's words confirmed it.

"I would plead for the Holy Father's protection in Rome and for his help in the battle against the Friar Savonarola." Piero attempted to regain control of the situation in a way that might have worked if there was any respect left to give him.

"We have dispatched our son, Cardinal Borgia, to secure his silence, as your sister is already aware."

Piero laughed out loud. "You think he can be silenced?"

"If not he will be burnt and there will be flourishing once again in your fair Florence." Alexander VI stood from his chair and began removing himself from the audience. "This time there will be a Vatican bank."

"And what does the Pope know of banking?"

The Holy Father stopped and turned towards Amara's brother with darkness spewing out of his eyes. "What the Pope does not know Piero de' Medici will teach him."

"Who does he think he is?" Piero muttered under his breath as the room began to clear.

Amara looked at him as if he were mad. "The Pope of Rome."

"I am the son of the Lorenzo the Magnificent."

"And he's dead." The situation was different now and Piero had to see that, surely he understood that being a Medici did not mean anything anymore.

"He would be disappointed in you." Amara recoiled from her brother at the harshness of his voice. "It is one thing to sleep with the devil here in Rome, but to do it with no benefit thought for the family is unforgivable." She stared up at the brother she loved and tried to remember a time he would soothe her after she cried in her nursery. Now he was willing to sell her to anyone in order to gain political favour.

"So I am to pander myself for your sake?"

"I am your brother." He said the words like it made her owe him something unchallengeable.

"What have you ever done for me? You sent me away knowing what would happen. You brought this on yourself. And yes, perhaps Father would be disappointed in me, but he would hold grievous thoughts for the son who demolished centuries of his family's work." She revolved on her heel to leave her brother but was caught by his arm.

Amara's limb was twisted in Piero's firm grip as he spat at her. "I am the head of this family, you will show me some respect."

"I will show you respect when you have earned it." Her arm jerked back in a painful gesture. "When you are no longer unfortunate." Amara held the word in her mouth and let it sit over him in the air long enough for his face to turn purple, the way it had done when he was a child. They nicknamed him 'unfortunate' while her father had been 'magnificent'.

"Perhaps it's not good enough that you took the son to bed, maybe you should take the Pope as well. Mother would not be able to stand the sight of you." The words physically struck Amara and Piero was glad when they did so. "Can you remember how proud she was when you swore to . She must look down on you now and see how you've dragged her memory through the mud."

Amara opened her mouth expecting a harsh return but was met with spluttering silence. Her mind had betrayed her. Instead, she was overrun with pulsing hatred for herself, her brother, and the world. Her chest swelled, she urged her body to do something, yet nothing occurred.

She felt a gentleness touch her arm but her body could not, or would not, move. "Come, my lady." Amara's face turned to meet Micheletto. There was a softness in his eyes and she wondered if he had been there the whole time or had only just arrived. She began to walk away from the room when her brother called after her:

"See what you have reduced yourself to sister? Finding company in a dog when you once dined with artists."

This time it was Amara who grabbed Micheletto before he could think of attacking Piero. She began walking forward with more purpose this time and nothing would stop her until she reached her Chambers. 

The swelling darkness which surrounded Amara reflected her inner turmoil. Had she been selfish to succumb to Cesare's charm when she knew it broke all promises she had once made to her mother? Another sob wrenched itself out of her.

More than that her brother had sold her to what he saw, like the whole of Italy saw, as devils. Piero had placed in hell hoping that she would become a whore. After all of it was wiped away that's what she was: a whore.

Amara raised her head from her knees as she heard a small commotion outside her chamber. Someone was talking to Micheletto and soon there was a knock upon her door.

She made no answer.

"My love?" Her heart twitched at the sound of the only voice she wanted to hear in that moment.

"Cesare?" She was sure she had to be imagining him. He was not set to return from Florence for another week at least.

"Yes, my love."

She slowly moved her crumpled limbs into a standing position and made her way towards the door. As soon as he heard the key turn to unlock the door he was upon her.

Cesare drew her body into his so tightly that she wondered if he would consume her. "What happened?" He whispered in her ear.

"My brother, Piero, he…" The idea of retelling the story simply made Amara relive it in her head. It played over and over again like a song she could not get rid of.

"Did he harm you?" Cesare began to check her body for any damage her brother might have inflicted. She silently prayed that her wrist had not bruised. "If he misused you — "

"He injured my feelings." She interrupted him remembering that Cesare had murdered the last person who misused those he loved.

"I hold those feelings close to my heart." "If he does ill by you: he does ill by me."

"He sold me." That wasn't right. She shook her head. "No — he gave me away."

"To me?" Cesare was unsuccessful in hiding the hurt from his voice.

"To your father, and you, and your family." She was glad they were still in darkness and he could not see the tears falling down her face once more.

He dropped his hands from her body and stepped back. "Are you so unhappy here?"

"No!" She rushed towards him. Even in the dark, she could locate him. "No, but it does not soften the blow."

"We will have vengeance for what he had done to you." The ice in his voice caused Amara's warm Florentine blood to frost over.

"He's still my brother, Cesare. Regardless of what he has done." She would not have him harmed. The image of Cesare standing over Piero's punctured body as the blood oozed out of him was one that was too close to reality.

"Then what do you want?" He pulled her down onto his lap. "Tell me and it is yours."

She breathed in his soft, calming scent. "I would like for things to be simple once more."

"Ah, Little Medici," Cesare sighed tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm afraid things were never simple." 

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year guys - Thank goodness we're out of 2016! Onwards and upwards (hopefully).** This chapter was a nightmare to get up.

So what did you think of this chapter?

Machiavelli's jumped ship - don't think Amara will be too pleased when she finds out. 

There is a lot of the Medici clan next chapter - more than I've ever had to write before. Cesare will not be thrilled with that.

What did you think of the argument with her brother? Also what do you think was the most important thing that happened to Amara this chapter?

All the love,

Anna x


	7. Siege at Forli

**The Siege at Forli**

 **October 1496**

On the 11th day of the 10th month, Savonarola stepped out into the streets of Florence and addressed the crowd before him.

"We will cut of his head." The monk raised his hands as though they were quaking with the divine power God had placed onto them. "We will cut the head of the devil."

The crowd that had gathered did not care that the Medici's raised their city for centuries and protected it from Milan's great army when they wanted blood. They wanted Piero's blood as a sacrifice to wash their own sins away.

Lucrezia de' Medici turned from the crowd, her rounded hood protected her identity. Savonarola could cut off her brother's head for all she cared, but he would not remove hers without a fight.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lucrezia's little sister, was panicking. Amara moved her feet in swift motions but she did not run – running would alert the maid that something was wrong which would no doubt notify the Pope who was currently unaware of any issue. She burst through the chambers of Cesare Borgia and when she laid eyes on her lover she was most displeased.

He was sitting with his head against the rim of his marble bathtub. The steam swirled around the room and water dripped down the windows misty with condensation. He had created his own sauna to protect him from the October winds that were starting to run through the Holy City.

"Ah, Little Medici." He smiled brightly at the sight of her. "Have you come to join me?"

She folded her arms and pursed her lips in a way that informed Cesare she was annoyed, yet pleased him no end. "No, I've come to collect you."

"For what, my love?" He feigned his innocence well.

"You know what." Once again, she gave him a stern look which was only returned with one of pleasure.

"Let's miss it." He finally gave in. Holding out a hand he invited her, "Stay here with me instead."

"Your father won't be happy." He turned away from her and she pitied him. Today, Juan Borgia was a man of honour. There was a whole day of celebration for the Captain-General of the Church. "It's only for an hour." Cesare had to attend the service, that was all she cared about. He was a Cardinal it would be an insult to his own family if he did not go. "And then we can get back into the tub."

"Are you trying to bribe me, Little Medici?"

"I would never do such a thing."

"Because if you did it might work…"

"Well," She knelt behind him, her hand trailing down into the soft, warm waters so she could cup him between the legs. "Why don't you go and then we can see what happens?"

His breath caught at the feeling. "You play a dangerous game."

"I do not care about the game's safety as long as I win."

"Then you win," He rose from the bath water and it sloshed over the side of the tub as he swung his leg over. Amara moved backwards to avoid getting her skirts wet. "And I graciously accept your terms." Without warning, Cesare reached out and grabbed her. She felt his arousal against her bum and a part of her wanted to mount him there on the floor.

"You need to dress." She had dismissed his valet earlier when she found him shaking in the hall outside of Cesare's rooms. He had clearly just faced his master's wrath so she did not blame him for his condition.

Instead Amara dressed him. He obeyed her in silence as she clothed him into the robes that had been his prison for the past four years and would continue to be until he stopped breathing. Unless his father saw sense and released him.

* * *

"My dear," Amara froze and forced a smile onto her face as she heard Juan's voice. "I lost you after the service."  
"I had errands to run." She prayed that her blush looks pretty and not flustered. "I hope you understand."

He nodded, still clothed in his golden armour. She could smell the wine on his tongue and wondered if he would make it to the end of the night. "I do, I understand very well."

Amara turned away from Juan's smug face in the hope that it would hide her embarrassment. "Well, I understand that you are going to save us from that Tigress that lives at Forli." She prayed that his own smugness would distract him. He would ride off tomorrow with a whole army behind him, an army that her Cesare wanted more than anything.

"That I am." He smirked. "I have had new armour made for the occasion. Would you pledge your favour to me?"

"That would be a way to spark rumours." She jested. "How is Spain? And your wife?"

"Very well." Amara took this moment to look over Juan's shoulder scouting for Cesare. If he saw her talking with his brother there would be a scandalous gossip afoot when he dragged her from the scene. "My wife is with child."

"That is excellent news." Amara smiled and reached for Juan's arm. She tried to avoid the small bitter feeling which grew in the base of her stomach. A small part of her wondered if Cesare would feel the same when he heard. The likelihood was small, Cesare only felt the absence of war and bloodshed. "And she is well? Your wife."

"Yes. I love her." She stared into Juan's eyes with a small hope that there was a lie in them, but there was not.

"I'm so pleased for you, Juan." She wasn't sure if the words were true, yet Juan believed them. It did not seem fair to her that Juan was allowed everything that she wanted with Cesare while things were consistently removed from her reach.

"Ah, my dear I have missed you." He reached for her arm and began to walk. "It has been a long time since I have seen a smile so sweet."

 _Good_ , Amara thought, _I can still fake a smile._

* * *

Amara entered the Medici Piazza in Rome without announcement. It did not feel like home to her. She had never visited the palace before her brothers' refuge in it after their exile. Still, her little feet graced the stone steps evenly as she ascended away from her faithful dog.

She stepped between the rooms in the hope of finding her twin, yet the face she was met with shocked her to the core.

"Lucrezia."

"Piccola." The sound of her childhood nickname brought a swell of unconfined emotion through her. It was so uncontrollable she was sure it would burst out of her; then it did.

To Amara's horror, her vision became blurred and she knew that the hotness in her eyes would now spill over. It was not long until she found herself buried in her sister's arms, the same way she had done at her after the death of both her parents. With a blubbering cry, she buried her head into her sister's neck.

"I hadn't expected to see you here." She finally managed after the storm of emotion had passed. "Will you be missed in Florence?"

"Florence does not like its women to make public appearance anymore. I will not be missed."

"But your children -

"My children are with their Dominican nanny." Amara did not miss the bitterness in her sister's voice. Lucrezia was always the vicious one, she was a true Medici unlike her cowering brother. She was the true first born. "And you? Will you not be missed while you are here?"

"My shadow is downstairs." Amara had no doubt that her elder sister already knew this.

"So, the Cardinal knows you are here?" The Cardinal was in Florence assessing the damage that Savonarola did.

"Yes, or he will know." Cesare would know where she was even if they were separated by seas.

"They say you're his mistress." Her official title in Florence was 'The Borgia Whore' but others, who still favoured her family, called her 'The Borgia Mistress'. She was not fond of either title.

"It's more than that." She turned away as she made her own defence for no one else would make it for her.

"But you sleep with him?" Amara's face reddened and her mouth opened in a thumbing motion. "I am not a prude, Amara and I hold no illusions about your relationship with that Borgia but it is important to me that you do not give him control over your children."

"I am not with child, Lucrezia."

"How often is he in your bed?"

"Most nights…" She felt uncomfortable speaking of their private occasions aloud.

"Then you will be."

"No. Lucrezia and I take a herbal drink." It tasted foul, but so far it had done its job remarkably well and they were still blessed with a bleed.

"How reliable is it?" Once again Lucrezia would not be delayed by niceties.

"I have never missed my monthly bleeding." Amara almost snapped in the hope it would quieten her elder sister.

"Good." Lucrezia nodded in a stark fashion. "If you do become with child, Amara, get out of Rome."

Now it was the littlest Medici's turn to laugh. "Where would I go?"

"Florence."

"Florence?" Amara could not imagine returning to her homeland after all that had happened. "I think the Friar might object to that."

"The Friar will not be there." Lucrezia assured her little sister. It had been so long since Amara had been certain of Florence's redemption that she wondered if she had ever sounded like her. "Come, Piccola. We have work to do."

* * *

"This is madness!" Amara cried at her supposedly clever siblings. They had been out into the world, they were supposed to be cunning but instead they were ruled by stupidity.

"No, my dearest sister it is ingenious." Their ingenious plan was to take back Florence by force, with an army. It had never been done before and it would never be done. Florence was a Republic, run by politics not blood-shed. Lucreiza de' Medici had already been gathering forces for her brothers.

"It will never work." Amara shook her head in disgrace.

Lucreiza grasped her little sister's hand in the hope it would calm her. "There have been many times our family's odds have stood against us, but we always prevail." Her great-grandfather had been exiled once and still managed to return in fortune.

"We will not look loyal to Florence if we demand to be reinstated." The Republic would never stand let themselves be dictated. If they were going to gain power again, it needed to be with the public's support.

"That is the beauty of it." Her twin hoped to change her mind. He smiled in that reassuring way which would make her misbehave as a child, but they were not children anymore and this was not a childish prank. "We are not demanding anything."

"Florence's noble families will do that." Amara paused, her blood quickening. The voice was one she expected to never hear for a long time. Giovanni stood, dressed in his Cardinal robes, in the shadows of the room.

"Brother." Amara looked to the floor as she addressed him. Neither of the siblings took a step towards the other. When Giovanni had last laid eyes on her he had warned to her stay away from the wolves that ruled Rome. However, she had ended up in his bed instead.

"We will succeed, Amara." Lucrezia took her chin between her thumb and finger as her father did to them. "And all will be well."

* * *

Lucrezia Borgia was late. She was the Pope's daughter, she could be late to her own party. Amara, on the other hand, was not.

She glanced around the room at the most eligible men that the world had to offer. They had all come for Lucrezia, to see the most beautiful women in all the land for themselves. If they were lucky they would catch her. Amara almost laughed at their eager stupidity. Lucrezia was in charge here, as she always had been and always would be. They had come to trap her, but they were the ones already in her clasp.

Amara's eyes landed on Micheletto. He had dressed himself in fine robes on the request of his mistress. He could have passed for a Lord or a Duke, but the servant did not wish to act like one. Instead, he removed himself from the group: present, yet detached. It was obvious he was here for Amara and she had a feeling it scared the men in the room. When they got too close to her the assassin would strike.

"My Lords." They stared at her in waiting anticipation. It was as though they feared she would tell them they had greatly dishonoured her and Cesare Borgia would come through the door swinging his sword and strike them all down. "I do believe our host is late which is most unlike her I assure you."

It was like Lucrezia though. She did not understand time and knew the world would wait for her.

"When we have you, my lady, why would we need anyone else?" One of the suitors, from a noble family near Milan, praised.

"Do you enjoy the Vatican?" Another approached her and they awaited her answer in anticipation.

"There is never a dull moment, even the walls have secrets." The mention to spies seemed to win favour from Amara's new audience who laughed gaily.

"The most gracious, Lucrezia Borgia." The announcement cut through the air like a cry to battle. The suitors scrambled over themselves to look presentable for the women they wanted to meet. Lucrezia was a vision, of course. She was wearing her Borgia red with a matching crucifix and hairnet. Greeting Amara first she smiled, reached for her hand and kissed her cheek. Amara smiled brightly at her friend in the hope that it would hide the bitterness in her stomach. Lucrezia was Borgia and Rome belonged to the Borgia's it made sense that she would triumph over Amara.

"Shall we?" Lucrezia gestured towards the large doors where dinner was held on the other side.

Lucrezia held her audience as any actress would. She laughed and joked in the right places. That is why it shocked Amara when the Doge of Venice's nephew, Marco, turned towards her with a sympathetic smile.

"You must miss your home terribly." He spoke with a sincerity that Amara had not come across in a while.

"Yes." Part of her had forgotten what Florence was like. She remembered the sun and the smell of incense, but it had been so long since she had been there that part of her seemed to have forgotten.

"I met your father once, when I was very young, he made jokes." Venice and Florence were old friends so it should not have surprised her that he had an acquaintance with him. Yet, the mention of her dead papa struck a chord.

"He was fond of that." She played with her smile. "Not that they were any good."

"Everyone laughed."

"Well, they had to." She joked cheerily.

"Now I come to think of it they were rather dull." He smirked with a merry jest.

Amara, taken aback by his new answer, laughed loudly. "How dare you? You insult my family name, sir."

"I beg your forgiveness."

"You'll have to work for it." She sipped on the red wine, then gulped. "My favour is not easily won back."

"I enjoy a challenge." There was a silence that Amara recognised. It was one that she shared with Cesare when they had reached a part of the conversation when they could communicate without speaking.

"I would enjoy watching."

* * *

Lucrezia had been scurrying about Rome with an unusual frenzy. Cesare had left her with strict instructions that Amara's 17th birthday was to be an event that none would forget. She knew her work was good. There were dancers, the finest food all the world had to offer, she hired men that could breathe fire.

On Cesare's order, it was a masquerade. The sound of the music grew and swelled through the streets of Rome, it seemed the whole world was celebrating the mistress.

When Amara arrived, the party was in full swing, but that did not stop the swell from ebbing out. Every head turned towards her in the hope of catching a glimpse of her. Lucrezia had invited so many people that this was the first chance many had been able to see her.

Whether Medici or Borgia you could not deny her beauty. She was lightly tanned with a hint of rose in her cheeks, and her eyes could grab hold of a soul if they needed. Her master watched from the crowd that gaped and he was proud of her and himself for owning such a jewel.

"Lucrezia!" Amara called for her friend and when the two clasped hands the party began again. "You have done so well."

"You know a Borgia, any excuse to celebrate." Lucrezia spotted something over Amara's shoulder and her eyes flashed.

"Go," Her friend ordered and Lucrezia wondered off to meet whatever lover she had acquired. "But do not get caught."

She found herself with only a second of peace before Amara was grasped once more. This time by the nephew of Venice. "If it isn't the Doge's nephew."

"I wish you the happiest of days." He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

She smiled at him honestly. "Thank-you, sir."

"Would you dance?" He offered her an arm.

"I would prefer to drink." She said taking his arm anyway.

"Then you shall have it." He left her and she watched him weave through the crowd with a smile because Cesare would never have needed to, a path would have been carved instead.

"My Lady." Amara almost sighed when she heard the voice behind her.

"What is it, Micheletto?" She did not hide her disdain in his interruption.

"I need you to accompany me, my lady."

"No." She refused. "I am your mistress tonight and I will not be ordered by you no matter your need."

"My lady, my orders come from a higher authority."

Intrigued, Amara nodded her head in a stark fashion and followed Micheletto through the crowd and away from her party. It was in the empty, dark, and cold halls that Micheletto stopped, bowed and left.

"Micheletto?" She called after him. "Micheletto!" Something was not right. He would not leave her unaccompanied.

Footsteps alerted Amara to the presence behind her. Amara spun on her heel and faced the noise head on. The dark figure walked at an alert pace and authority, it was a man, she could see that much. Just as she was about to run from her future attacker, the light flashed on his remarkable face and instead she ran towards him.

"Did you miss me so much, Little Medici?" Cesare Borgia chuckled darkly into her ear.

Amara tightened her arms in response. "More."

"Let me look at you." He cupped her face between his large hands and smiled at what he saw.

"Have I changed?" Amara joked with a tilt of her chin.

"No." He said and kissed her. She leaned into him. His smell was what she missed more than anything, it calmed her in the same way a church would. Cesare pushed her back in desperation until she hit the wall. Amara could make out the faint shape of a biblical scene on the wall as he scooped her into his arms. He must have undone his laces when she was distracted. Both partners breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed into her and Cesare did not stop until they were both finished.

"How is Florence?" She asked as he handed her a cloth to wipe herself with.

"The friar openly defies the papal order." Cesare rested against the wall.

"As he always has done." She aspirated. "How is this any different?"

"I spoke to him."

This was new. "When?"

"At the bonfire." The Bonfire of Vanities had spread across Florence. People threw their possessions onto the fire in the hope it would save them from the same ones in hell.

"Did he try to throw you on it?" Amara jested.

Cesare grabbed her and held her close. "I am convinced, more than ever, that he will make his own grave."

"Then it must be very deep, as he has been digging for years."

"Listen to me." He held her shoulders tightly and waited until she would look at him. "I will do anything for your happiness." Cesare Borgia watched as the girl fell into his chest. It was true that he wished her to be happy and Florence would make her so, but it would make his father twice as pleased and that was indescribable.

* * *

 **Late November**

Amara lay her head back against the wet grass. It had finally stopped raining and the storms began to settle in Rome. She had taken this chance to flee the confines of her chambers. Although she knew Micheletto was watching her he had given the girl space and did so from the window.

"Is this where you have been hiding?" Amara sat up quickly in embarrassment. Marco smirked with a glint in his sea blue eyes.

"I am not hiding." She held her hand out for him to help her up.

"I have not been able to find you."

She laughed. "Have you been looking?"

They began to walk away from the Vatican. "I wish to speak to you about something of importance."

"Speak away." She offered her full attention, yet he remained silent.

After a few minutes, Marco chose to speak. "You would make the most beautiful wife."

"I will bring little advancement to my husband, and almost no money at all." She found humour in the situation. He was here to help court the most influential marriage in all of Christendom, but he was talking to the least valuable.

"You are from an old family of Italy." He retaliated. His eyes shone in a way she hadn't seen since she had been at court in Florence when young dukes would profess their love in a way that only the innocent could.

"Yes." She laughed. "An _old_ family."

"You have blood that could claim Florence in the future."

"Florence is a democracy." Her voice suddenly became firm. Her family had been accused of bribing the Signoria for so long that she had learnt to defend their innocence at all moments. It did not help that the Friar accused them of doing so at that very moment. "They voted for my family. We have nothing without the people's favour."

"The people are more likely to favour those they trust." His blue eyes met hers with a message she could not read. "Your brothers are in Rome, are they not?"

"They are."

"I would speak to them."

"About?" Amara approached the question with quiet anticipation and confusion.

"Your hand." She almost laughed at the boldness he must have felt. What she would give to have such confidence.

"My brothers would have no say in my hand." Amara wondered if he had lived in exile or did Venice simply not hear news of her mistress ways. "You would need to speak to my guardian, Cesare Borgia." She expected him to recoil in fear but he seemed remarkably calm.

"Who has been absent in Florence." It was true that Cesare was away, but he was omnipotent.

Amara felt the need to clarify some basic facts for him. "Cesare Borgia is the son of the Pope."

"Then I will go to his father." He took her hand and she knew that Micheletto would be here to save her honour at any moment.

This time she did laugh. "And ask him what?"

Marco did not reply but clasped her small hand in his. They were not rough like Cesare's and she realised he must have read more love stories than wielded swords. "He will accept and we can be in Venice before the Cardinal returns."

"You must be terribly in love." Amara almost pitied him. She wondered if another version of herself from the past would have loved this man before her. He was a knight, but she had fallen for something different now. "Either that or you are mad."

"I am mad for you. You are all I see."

"Or perhaps you are bored." She removed her hand at the sight of Micheletto behind him. She shook her head at him to tell him all was well, yet her protector did not remove his own hand from the tip of his sword.

"You are my Helen of Troy. I would start a war to have you."

"You may have to." She walked away from him. However, something mischievous sparked inside of her and her heel spun. "Go on and start your war. It would be fun to see you try."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I know that Amara taking a draft to stop her from getting pregnant is a long stretch, but I don't want her with child yet. She has a big journey ahead of her.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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